


Alone

by reactcr



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Stony, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of a civil war fix-it, M/M, Majorly Depressed Tony Stark, Makeup Sex, POV Tony Stark, Sex, Stony - Freeform, aka i wanna be mean to tony, making a guest appearance is: anxiety, this is my first marvel fanfic pls be gentle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reactcr/pseuds/reactcr
Summary: It's been two years since the Accords went into effect. Pepper's moved on, half the Avengers are nowhere to be found, and Tony's nightmares are only getting worse.





	1. Chapter 1

_“Boss, three incoming on your six.”_

“Yeah--got that.” Nanites rolled down armored shoulders, forming custom missiles to obliterate the fast encroaching Chitauri. From the left came unexpected energy blasts, knocking the suit of its regular course with a punctuated grunt inside the armor. “Were you waiting until _after_ to warn me about those?” 

_“I thought it might be a nice surprise.”_

Tony scoffed, the beginnings of blood dripping off his brow, so conveniently obstructing his view. Another alien seemed to take the split second advantage, its intentions clear a second too late. Their armored claws extended, scraping down metal until they snagged a groove, roughly yanking Tony out of the air with a yelp. These things were a damn nuisance, but it was nothing a rough spin couldn’t solve, delighted to see centripetal force do its job and release the flightless Chitauri’s grip. Hello one-way ticket. 

“Any idea on numbers?” It felt like there was no end to them; Tony must have already killed more than a hundred, and yet he couldn’t find a visible break in the flow.

_“I can’t get a read -- flow is increasing at more than an exponential rate--”_

Perfect. Just, perfect. 

Almost on cue, warnings in his HUD wildly blared, warnings too soon to prepare for. It felt like damn near a dozen bodies had just toppled onto his armor, slamming him down towards the ground at a rate he did _not_ like the odds of. To make those odds worse, they were clawing, biting, screaming at the armor -- and Tony was paling watching heavy dustings of nanotech shed. 

“Superheat the armor--” The flashing lights illuminating the right half of his screen told Tony both jets on that side were gone -- replacing them hurriedly to try and keep himself fully armored. “--scratch that. Prepare for one hell of a landing.” 

His nanotech quickly worked to insulate the back of armor, building-tops visible between the obstructing claws alerting him impact was imminent. The ground came hard, armor and Chitauri bodies slamming into pavement with a force hard enough to rattle the insides of Tony’s skull. It wasn’t until the ringing in his ears dulled that he could even process Friday’s attempt to warn him. Blood ran down nose, ears -- and yet the Chitauri continued on, acting as if the impact had done nothing but pin Tony down. Claws scraped holes through his faceplate, and Tony’s arms raised to attempt and block a lethal blow while his armor healed. “Friday--grab Thor’s attention for me.” Tony hissed through bloodied teeth, hoping lightning could thin the growing amount of Chitauri on his fast-disintegrating suit. 

_“Thor isn’t here, boss.”_

Not here? That wasn’t reassuring, distracting him from blocking blunt claws scraping across his reactor. “Cap, I could use some ground support.” He tried again, blood running cold as he watched the sky blacken with Chitauri soldiers. 

_“Captain America isn’t here eit--h--er--”_

“What--?” Repulsors fired a few off of his body, but with each gone, two more appeared. “Nat--Barton--” Somebody, _anybody_ dammit. It was clear he couldn’t fight them off alone. 

_“The--y--’r--e-- gone bos---”_

No. They wouldn’t. 

Sharp teeth sank into exposed chest, and Tony screamed. 

**_“You’re all alone.”_**

\---

Tony’s chest heaved, fingers desperately working to free himself of what restrained him. It wasn’t until he was fully upright that he could feel how violently every inch of his body was shaking. 

A few hard blinks reoriented himself -- forcing him to realize he was home, in bed, no invasion to speak of. 

The same couldn’t be said for the rest. 

Slowly, he managed to coax himself out of the sheets, feet planting themselves atop the cold hardwood. These nightmares never let Tony rest -- why spend the hours trying?

The only bright side to the empty spot beside him was these nightmares affected him, and him alone. No second person worriedly disrupting their sleep, all because of a bad dream that jolted Tony awake. He knew it was one of the many problems of he and Pepper’s relationship. 

That break had come at a good time -- hadn’t it? He really thought the accords would set everything right -- bring everybody together again; arguably not in the same way, but _together nonetheless._ Instead it tore everything apart; his relationship, his team, the last ounce of _togetherness_ Tony thought he had. 

He needed coffee. 

Slowly he filled his cup, hoping this batch would jumpstart him enough to overcome the grogginess he still felt. 2:48 AM -- that was more sleep than most nights. It would be a joke to think that meant they were getting better. 

“Tony.” 

Tony jumped, coffee sloshing out onto the counter -- and across parts of his hand. “Shit--” It didn’t matter much -- mostly because his eyes see Steve, barely illuminated by the farthest reaches of the kitchen light. 

He blinked. 

Gone.

His eyes searched across the empty space, before the burning sensation became too prominent of a thought to ignore. He ran the scalded spots underneath water, eyes burning with the plea to sleep just a little longer. He wished he could. 

God, why was it so easy to hear Steve’s voice? It’d been nearly two years. Lack of sleep never helped the hallucinations. But the voice. The _voice._

“Friday,” Tony started, picking mug off the counter to wipe down the rim, edges and bottom. “Pull up current projects in the lab. Run me through them.” Some mind-numbing designs could do him good, maybe even relax him enough for a thirty minute nap. 

_“Filed as Underoos: Iron Spider: Mark II. Stealth suit: Mark I. Enhanced webshooters.”_ Tony started down the hallway, sipping at hot coffee — though not nearly as scalding to the tongue. 

_“Mark L. Mark LI. Reconnaissance drones.”_ No, none of that for the morning. Last night’s bruises proved he needed to be more awake to calibrate repulsors. Another sip had Tony stopping before the lab doors, ushering himself in to clink mug atop a workbench. 

_“Megingjörð.”_ Oh right. Tony wondered if Thor would ever come and pick that up. 

_“Steve Rogers shield.”_

That sentence hit harder than he imagined. Tony’s movements paused, his fingers lightly curling against the warm ceramic with a outward huff. “Stop—“ He instructed quietly, already moving to slide down into a nearby chair. 

He wasn’t coming back for that shield. Why on God’s green earth would he? Tony had made it very clear he wasn’t its rightful owner. 

Tony certainly wasn’t that either. 

His hand ran slowly through hair, tugging the ends lightly. “Bring up Mark IV of Rhodey’s leg braces.” 

At least this way, he could help someone who _actually_ cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! You can find my tumblr with the same username: reactcr.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m worried about you.” 

A distracted voice replied. “Need to—adjust the flexibility here—what?” 

“I said I’m worried about you.” Rhodey sighed. “Look at you, man. Your bags have bags.” His hand gripped the countertop while Tony tinkered with brace circuits. “Talk to me.” 

Tony’s eyes briefly lifted from his work. “Just bad sleep.” He hoped Rhodey would take that. Yeah, right. 

“What, you got a lumpy mattress? Maybe it’s all that coffee you drink to keep you functioning.” Rhodey huffed. “Or maybe, there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

James Rhodes, sniffing out Tony’s bullshit since the 1990’s. His eyes found Rhodey’s again, their gaze lingering longer this time, wondering if he could verbalize what had and still _was_ plaguing his thoughts. 

“I miss the team.” He finally forced out, heavier silence settling in the air. He could already see the corners of Rhodey’s mouth dropping. “Things are different now. Not a _day_ passes I don’t think about what those Accords did.” 

“It should’ve happened differently. You can’t control their choices, Tony—“ 

“I thought they’d understand.” He scoffed. “I thought I knew them _so_ well. Why let a piece of legislation tear down something bigger than just yourself?” 

Rhodey lowered his head. Honestly — it wouldn’t surprise Tony if he thought him stupid for this to _still_ bother him. “It happened at a bad time—“

“Why, because he chose his war buddy over the entire team?” 

“You can’t change what happened—“ 

“He _let_ you fall!” Tony snapped, eyes clouded with more emotions than he thought he had. “He didn’t slow down, he didn’t turn. He let. You, fall.” 

Rhodey fell quiet, eyes searching across the tile floor — as if deciphering Tony’s words. “This is about Steve.” 

Tony’s chest tightened. Rhodey might as well have slapped him. “This is about the team—“ 

“No. I’m right. This is about Steve. He’s your problem.” 

“Do you want me to fix this or not?” Tony muttered, averting eyes back to circuits. If he tampered enough with the wiring, he could have Rhodey in a split — that’d be kinda funny—

“Tony, he did some—seriously messed up things. Okay? But you can’t keep _brooding_ about this. You have to let it go. If that means letting _him_ go—“ Rhodey shook his head. “It might be best.” 

Yeah, it was _that_ easy. 

“Come get lunch with me. You need to get out of this place.” Rhodey was sure it only harbored bad memories. 

Yeah, he did need to leave this place. Honestly, he appreciated the escape route. Tony fumbled with a few more wires, lightly bending Rhodey’s leg to make sure the correct changes were made. “I need a shower.” 

“Yeah, you do.” 

A smirk crawled its way onto lips, and Tony pushed himself up on feet with a few crackly joints. “Walk around. I want feedback when I’m done.” 

———

“Ross has you as guard dog?” Tony’s squinted eyes behind sunglasses, lifting drink for another sip. “Never pictured him owning a chihuahua.” 

A nice kick under the table sparked a giggle from Tony. “He’s worried about the others knocking down his door. They are ranked most wanted.” 

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Of course Tony had heard sightings of rogue avengers, but with most of them out of the country, the accords didn’t allow any of them to pursue the leads. The one time the UN thought it worthwhile, any traces of the group were gone long before Tony had arrived. What a shame. “Last week he came by — something about checking up.” Tony scrunched his nose. “I knew it was about Banner, Thor. It terrifies him. Thinks I’m hiding them in some storage vault.” 

“You can’t exactly blame him.” A bite of food interrupted Rhodey’s sentence, swallowing before continuing. “Those two will flip when they hear what’s happened.” 

Yeah, that was an understatement. “I’m _not_ looking forward to that conversation.” Considering they showed up before the decade was over. Tony’s eyes aimlessly wandered to the side, watching the lazy flow of town pass by the storefront. Everything seemed so peaceful, so ordinary, yet— 

“Did we do the right thing?” 

Rhodey paused with his drink. “What?” 

“The accords.” Tony reiterated, eyes slowly finding their way to settle on Rhodey again. “Did we,” he gestured vaguely, shoulders dropping. “do the right thing.” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Rhodey’s eyebrows furrowed, leaning in a little closer to the table. “Are you talking about for the world? Or for us?” 

“Us.” Maybe he was having second thoughts. Not — second thoughts, more — regret. He never wanted _this._ Nothing ground his teeth more than rolling over for the government, _especially_ Ross. But it was a compromise for the people. So they felt safer knowing the Avengers had their ‘best interests’ in mind when dealing with situations. But what had that cost, for them -- for _him?_

“I’ve been running the numbers.” Elbows propped him upright on the table, leaning in to lower voice slightly. “Even _without numbers,_ it’s clear we’re not handling threats effectively.” Waiting for someone to give them the OK took hours, at best. How many people’s lives were in danger in those golden hours? 

Rhodey remained quiet, which gave Tony the impression he wanted to hear it until the end. “The Avengers were never meant to run under a government operation. They just weren’t. We gave it a try, because the alternatives were worse — and we’re none the better.” A brief drink of water wet his tongue again. “Ross won’t see it that way — why give up his control willingly?” He huffed. “Something has got to change, Rhodey. This isn’t working.” Maybe he’d have included mention of his team labeled as criminals when they were the very opposite, _still_ protecting people after they rejected them. One step at a time. 

No signs of immediate rejection showed in Rhodey’s features, and that was good enough for Tony. “I don’t know how possible that is. Signing this — 117 countries agreed on this decision.” Rhodey lowered his eyes, adjusted his napkin. “If it were just the US, maybe. But I don’t see you smooth talking your way through 117 countries.” 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Rhodey watched eyes raise with the words, calloused fingers curling around Tony’s forearm. “It won’t pardon them. They’d still serve the time — they committed those acts while the Accords were effective.” 

“We could lessen their sentences—“ 

“You don’t owe them a thing, Tony.” His voice was firm but soft, refusing to break contact with brown eyes. “They made their choice.” 

Tony smiled, empty in meaning. “And I made mine.” He finished quietly, eyes managing to keep to Rhodey’s for a few seconds longer. Slowly, he pushed his chair from the table, gathering his trash. He needed some time. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll see you, buddy.” He dumped his garbage, checked the time, and moved around to pat Rhodey on the shoulder on his way down the street. 

“I’m coming tomorrow, you hear me? Remember some pants this time.” Rhodey called back, fingers rubbing down his face. He hoped that mess of a man was heading straight for a nap - as for himself; he supposed he had one hell of a date with Secretary Ross.


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Tony.”   _

 

He turned; pitch black swallowed every reach of Tony’s vision. Where was he? 

 

Distant murmuring changed his direction again, eyes searching for any signs of movement. He  _ knew  _ that voice. He knew whose it was.

 

**_“Tony.”_ **

 

It was closer. The distorted, echoed tone chilled Tony to the core, feet scuffing against the floor to start him forwards - or was it sideways? He couldn’t tell, it was so dark. He could get to that voice -- answer its call, if he just got a little closer-- 

 

“Hey—“ Tony’s feet quickened into a jog, when he realized the third call was quieter. “Wait—“

 

He broke into a run, chest tightening when it came even quieter, a whisper he could barely hold on to give himself direction. No, no—

 

“Steve--!”  

 

_ Don’t leave _ . 

 

“Tony--wake up. C’mon.” Rhodey’s hand jarred him awake, a sharp breath expanding his chest as the cold of the tabletop registered against his cheek. Between the backache and the blinding white lights, Tony easily recognized he’d fallen asleep in the lab. It wasn’t uncommon — not really, but that didn’t make the aches any less painful. 

 

“Hey,” He slurred, not entirely coherent yet. “Wh’s up--?” 

 

Tony’s eyes instinctively closed, wanting desperately to catch up on sleep. Still, he could hear the concern from Rhodey, thick in his voice. “It’s like you  _ want _ more back problems. There’s a couch like—two feet away.” 

 

It wasn’t like he’d  _ planned _ on napping. 

 

“What time ‘sit?” In a perfect world, Rhodey would’ve let him sleep a little longer, but the hand patting his back made it clear that wasn’t happening. 

 

“Half past noon. How long have you been out?” Tony finally peeled his cheek off the countertop, calloused palms pushing himself upright. He was sore, and yet that had to be some of the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks. 

 

Even if Rhodey  _ had _ woken him from decent sleep, he was still a pal to bring him lunch. Fingers clumsily unrolled the paper bag set beside him, digging out a neatly wrapped burger. “Few hours.” He estimated, already peeling back the wrappings to take his first bite. 

 

Rhodey snorted, watching Tony ravage the burger as if he hadn’t eaten for days. How he could share the same minute eating and sleeping, he’d never understand. “Sounds like you need more.” And he did; but if that were the case, he’d need to move somewhere else -- somewhere his back would thank him later. While Tony didn’t _ intend _ for the couch to be his sleeping destination, the lab was almost always where he found himself nodding off. It might as well be his bedroom; it certainly housed him the longest (an exception could be made for the kitchen, where bottomless coffee brewed). 

 

Tony’s acknowledgement came in the form of a hum, taking the brief silence to pull his head out of its sleepy fog, and get in a couple bites of burger.

 

Rhodey accomodated the silence, despite his growing concern. Tony looked like shit. The oil-stained shirt and loose heavy curls were more typical for Tony; nothing a shower and some laundry couldn’t fix. But the discoloration under tired eyes, the sluggish movements and posture were loud warnings, screaming at Rhodey that something had to change.

 

Not to mention, his reaction at the mention of their teammates yesterday. 

 

“You planning on scarfing that burger and conking out again?” Tony was so invested in that burger, Rhodey was surprised he caught his attention. 

 

“And miss quality sass time with my best pal?” Tony winked an eye at his friend, who in turn rolled both of his. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rhodey knew him so well; the first burger was gone, and in the bag remained three more. He suspected two each, and dipped his hand in to snag a second.

 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Rhodey lowered his eyes a moment, aimlessly running hand across his chin. “I got a call from Ross on the way over.” 

 

Tony’s entire face dropped. He took another bite. 

 

“He said he called you about a thousand times, too.” He snagged the bag closer to himself, taking one of his own sandwiches out. “You’re lucky I was already on my way or he might’ve been pissed enough to come see you in person.” 

 

Tony scoffed. “I love being the center of his world. Twenty bucks he’s got a poster of me lying around.” 

 

Rhodey’s eyes rolled. “Tony--” 

 

“You’re right.” Tony snagged a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Definitely more of a figurine guy.” 

 

“--he wants you on call.” Rhodey finished, pausing a moment to bite into his own burger. “--some type of unrest in Italy. The panel’s talking right now. Whether they need us -- or how many.” His eyes raised to Tony, surprised to see he was still listening. 

 

“Details?” The news didn’t stop Tony from finishing his second burger, wiping mouth clean. 

 

“Until they give us the green light, it’s classified.” Rhodey shook his head, not happy to face this situation -- especially  _ now _ . “But honestly? I don’t think you’re fit for this mission.” 

 

Ouch. 

 

If the onions on his burger hadn’t properly slapped him awake, that sure as hell had. Tony’s eyebrows furrowed, elbows propping themselves on the table. “You don’t think I should go.” 

 

“No,” Rhodey reiterated. “I don’t.” 

 

“Wow.” Tony’s eyebrows lifted in fake surprise. “ I appreciate the concern---I’m perfectly capable.” Even before the words left Rhodey’s mouth, he knew where this was heading. 

 

“You’re  _ unstable _ , Tony.” Damn, twice in a week Rhodey was going for the throat. “Forget New York, forget the aliens,  _ this _ is the worst I’ve seen you. You hardly eat, you don’t sleep -- the only time I even  _ see _ your ass outside is if I’m the one dragging it out.” Rhodey pulled his chair closer. “Now maybe Secretary Ross doesn’t care, because you’re the  _ Invincible _ Iron Man, but I  _ do _ . You need  _ help _ , Tony. And this mission -- this isn’t it. You don’t need to be doing this to yourself.” 

 

Tony fumbled fingers down his face, pinching fingers together to rub at his eyes. “You want me to stay here, let people get hurt because I’m out of  _ sorts _ ?” 

 

“Someone else will go. You know that.” 

 

Tony huffed a laugh. “Who, Rhodey? There’s nobody  _ here _ . It’s you, me and Vision--on the  _ good _ days he activates his transponder.” He straightened his posture, holding Rhodey’s gaze. “You and I both know it’s not up to us who goes.”  

 

Rhodey shook his head. Why he thought this would go any other way, he didn’t know. “Don’t make me tell Ross about what’s going on. Don’t make me pull your ass out of this. It’s for your own good, Tony.” 

 

Maybe Tony knew that -- he  _ did _ know that, but this wasn’t the  _ time _ for his own ‘good’. They barely had a functioning system to begin with, and Tony wasn’t going to let something as minor as _ insomnia _ stop him from doing his _ job _ . “Can we argue later? I have a horrible burger induced headache.” Tony didn’t want every recent interaction with his best friend to be negative; and  _ certainly  _ not in regards to himself. He stood, fingers brushing back the greasy curls that tickled his forehead, to try and and attempt a semi-collected look. That would’ve helped three minutes ago. 

 

Still, a mild look of relief washed across Tony’s face when Rhodey gave a silent nod in agreement. He knew better by now than to waste his words when Tony had mentally disengaged. But they  _ would _ table this discussion for later. Rhodey was damned frustrated there even had to  _ be _ one. 

 

Tony threw his trash into the bag after taking Rhodey’s burger out, and nabbed it off the counter to pitch. The fact that Rhodey had brought this up more than once in a 24-hour period made it clear it was actively bothering him. Was it _ that _ noticeable?

 

“Leg braces?” Tony asked, dusting hands off as he returned to the same workbench, deciding to stand for now. 

 

Rhodey sighed. “A lot better. Feels like they’re mine again.” As if to prove it, Rhodey adjusted a leg across another. “Whatever you did, fixed it right up.” Even if Rhodey knew it was a segue, he couldn’t deny that Tony’s tune-up had made the difference. 

 

Tony nodded his acknowledgement. Fingers nervously ran down his chest, refusing to hold Rhodey’s gaze for the time being. “You’re staying -- right?” His eyes fell on the few holograms that hovered above the tabletop, still displaying designs Tony had been tinkering with before his unexpected nap. “The panel won’t decide quickly. That gives us at _ least _ until dinner.” 

 

“Duh. You think I came all this way for my health?” Tony’s lips upturned in a brief smile, eyes sparing a glance to his friend. “ But you gotta clean yourself up if you plan on staying this close.” 

 

He laughed, minimizing holograms with a swipe of his hand. “If you can handle that long without me.” He watched Rhodey roll his eyes -- teasingly this time, as Tony started for the lab entrance. A shower would do him good, maybe help completely wake him up. 

 

“I’ll brew you a cup -- of  _ water _ .” Rhodey said, and Tony’s lips flicked into a grin. 

 

He set the water to a tolerable heat, stepping inside the shower with the full intent to decompress. Warm, smooth water trickled through chocolate locks, weighing down the few curls that still held their buoyancy. His eyes closed and his nostrils flared as he exhaled slowly, calmly, realizing how much he actually needed this. The steady trickle of water easily let Tony’s mind wander, his thoughts drifting to the information Rhodey had relayed. 

 

Unrest in Italy, was that right? Surely the police could handle a situation like that — why call an Avenger or two? Situations like these made Tony’s skin itch; keeping important information from them was nothing new, but time and time again it posed a problem. How were they expected to do their job efficiently, if they weren’t given the information required? Classified or  _ not _ , it was necessary. 

 

It gave Tony plenty of reason to believe the so-called unrest was a coverup. 

 

He wouldn’t know until they —  _ if  _ they got the OK to pursue the lead (if it was enough information to be  _ considered _ one). And there was the problem of Rhodey’s concerns. Not wanting Tony to go. To think Rhodey believed this affected his  _ work— _

 

_ “Tony.” _

 

Hazel eyes reopened, turning their attention to the door. 

 

“Rhodey?” His ears strained past the hiss of running water.

 

No answer. 

 

His once-slack jaw tightened, fingers pushing back wettened hair with a forceful exhale. Who was he kidding - he knew damn well whose voice that was. Tony scoffed, ruffling wet locks with a shake of his head. If this kept happening, he might have to admit  _ himself _ into a psych ward. 

 

Keep it together. 

 

He turned the heat up and raised his arms to drag both hands through slick hair. Why in the hell were his hands shaking? This was hardly a big deal; so  _ what _ if he heard a voice every now and then?

 

_ I know I hurt you Tony. _

 

Tony’s breath hitched, fingers pulling at hair until knuckles were white. Why couldn’t he get that damn man out of his head? Give it up.  _ You made your choice.  _

 

_ I promise if you need us. If you need me, I’ll be there. _

 

**Liar.**

 

His knees weakened. If that was true at  **_all_ ** , he’d be here now. He would have never _ left _ .  

 

A pathetic noise bubbled out of Tony’s throat; he felt like he was going to be sick. “C’mon,” He gasped, just barely untangling fingers from his hair in time to brace against the wall. “Shit.” No,  _ no  _ \-- not now. It was suddenly too hot, and the once-pleasant steam was suffocating him, coiling its heat tightly around his throat. His other hand dragged down to his chest, clawing at discolored skin. Something--something was pushing on his chest, constricting his breathing. What was wrong with him, why was his heartbeat so fast, oh god he couldn’t  _ breathe _ \-- 

 

Tony sank to the shower floor, whimpering the most pathetic noises he’d heard in his  _ life _ , and yet they were the only sounds that  _ finally _ clued Tony in to how much he  _ hurt _ , how much he’d  _ lied _ to himself. How hard that shield and its wielder had shattered his heart.

 

His hands shook heavily pressing palms to his face, expression twisting to reveal the ache deep in his chest, the panic wracking his body. He wanted to act like he didn’t know  _ why _ this was happening, what had brought all of this on, but he knew -- God, he knew exactly why. 

 

They made a mistake.  _ He _ made a mistake. He missed them, all of them. But what really had him shaken was Rhodey’s gut-punching observation. 

 

This was about Steve. He  _ missed Steve.  _

 

He missed Steve -- and that only made him feel worse. 

 

He was lied to. He was betrayed. He was left, cast aside, forgotten. Steve broke their trust-- **_Steve_ ** did all of that, and Tony  _ missed  _ him.  

 

He pressed firmly down on his chest as he fought to gasp in air, ashamed at how quickly something so trivial had knocked him down. Worse yet, had that mission been assigned when Rhodey and he discussed it, this would be actively proving his point. Unstable,  _ unfit _ . He sniffed roughly, unsure if the water on his cheeks was from the shower, or himself. 

 

It took him ten minutes to breathe normally. 

 

To Tony’s relief, staying flush against the shower wall served enough of a contrast to keep from overheating. His chest ached from the adrenaline, all the remaining energy seemingly drained from his body. It never took this long to regain his right frame of mind; Tony didn’t understand why now, after  _ two years _ , it was finally settling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was because he’d finally voiced his doubts to Rhodey. Maybe it was because every time he closed his eyes, he was reminded. 

 

Once he was  _ sure _ the last ounce of nausea had left, Tony warily pulled himself up underneath the flow of water again. Immediately a new sting alerted Tony, his eyes lowering to find reddened, raised skin. Scratches decorated both shoulders and chest, aggravated by the hot steam swirling in the air. “Shit.” He’d really spiraled this time; it almost worried Tony he hadn’t noticed them until now. He lowered the temperature, both to remedy the sting, and keep from overheating again. Really, he was just glad those marks could be covered by a simple t-shirt. 

 

He hurried to properly finish his shower, not wanting to chance another opportunity for panic. 

 

The shower may have helped his hygiene, but one look in the mirror told Tony the only solution to looking like a functioning human being was a  _ lot _ of makeup. That or--decent sleep. Tony could hear Rhodey’s remark now - how could a genius like yourself be so damn stupid? He wished he knew the answer. 

 

Once he made sure the chosen shirt concealed in his favor, Tony wandered his way out into the hall and towards the kitchen, presuming Rhodey’s  _ freshly brewed  _ water would be waiting for him. Which was true, Tony came to find when he turned the corner - but a disgruntled Rhodey accompanied it. 

 

Tony gently slid past him with a pat on the shoulder, snagging water off the tabletop to sip. “What’s the matter, platypus?” 

 

“It’s Ross,” Rhodey said, disgruntled eyes meeting Tony’s. “The mission was greenlighted.” 

 

Tony blinked. That was surprisingly fast. “That’s good--isn’t it?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing in hesitant confusion. “Why the long face?” 

 

Rhodey sighed. “Because he wants you to go.  _ Alone _ .” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony’s hand ran back through damp hair; to say he was perplexed was an understatement. “I don’t get it. Alone—why alone?” Why even  _ bother? _

 

“You said so yourself. Ross’s got me as his guard dog. He’s way too paranoid to let me leave the city, much less the country.” Rhodey huffed. “I’m not happy about that at  _ all _ .” He lightly brushed past Tony to open the fridge, sliding a beer off the rack. This new situation required something a little s _ tronger  _ than water, and Rhodey was keen on getting a head start. “We can’t reach Vision. Not since last month.” Tony could tell how unnerved his friend was by the news, but really--

 

“I’ll handle it.” Tony watched Rhodey’s mouth open, quickly continuing. “--it’s not a big deal. I’ll read the briefing--it sounds quick-- _ standard _ . Nothing to worry about. I’ll be _ fine. _ ” Now that he knew what Rhodey’s hesitations were, he hoped he could ease his mind quick enough to keep him from wigging out.

 

Rhodey looked tired, worn down by the subject. Tony was half tempted to tell him to lay down. “I  _ really  _ don’t think you should go,” Rhodey pressed, but his tone lingered, like he had more to say. 

 

Tony stepped aside as Rhodey moved past again, searching for the bottle opener. “C’mon, buddy. Let me do this.” 

 

Rhodey snagged the opener from a drawer, popping the cap to toss in the trash and take the first sip of many. Troubled eyes met tired ones; neither one of them wanted to discuss this. “...Ross and the panel want you. I can’t change both their minds.” It didn’t take a genius like Tony to realize  _ how  _ much Rhodey was against this, even with the reluctant agreement. 

 

“I’ll keep in touch. The whole deal. Two--three days max.” Tony paused to drink, extremely thirsty after his,  _ ordeal  _ in the shower. “When have I ever let you down?” 

 

Rhodey’s drop in expression quickly had Tony backtracking. “ _ Alright _ \-- not my best use of words--” He admitted, setting the glass carefully beside him. “How ‘bout this. I’ll come back in one piece, and then...” Oh boy. Brown eyes danced away from Rhodey’s -- he was holding his breath, he was pretty sure -- hesitantly bouncing leg with a hiss inward. “--I’ll _ consider _ going to see someone.” Wow. That was a lot harder than he’d expected. 

 

It wasn’t what he wanted; hell, he didn’t  _ need _ the help. What good would it do, talking about his problems? They happened. They were done. No more needed to be said. 

 

Right? 

 

Regardless, whether  _ he _ wanted it or not, maybe it would lessen Rhodey’s worries. And that seemed to be the case, judging by the hopeful spark in his friends’ eyes. 

 

Really, Rhodey wanted to press, tell him he  _ had  _ to go, but considering how rare it was for Tony to even  _ play  _ with the possibility of outside help, he’d take what he could get. “I’m holding you to that,” His eyes remained on Tony, even if that sentiment wasn’t returned. “I’m serious.” 

 

“I know.” Was all Tony said, rushing a smile. He wasn’t entirely convinced Rhodey was fully relieved, but he could tell solely by his stance it’d lifted weight off his shoulders. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Tony tapped the watch around his wrist to pull holograms up, and open the briefing material. It was short, shorter than he’d expected. They _ really _ needed him to go abroad for something this small? At this rate, three days was an  _ extreme _ exaggeration. 

 

Rhodey watched the screens as Tony flipped through the orders, slowly working on emptying his drink. “You better.” Part of him hoped he’d stay longer, find a place to vacation and party like he  _ used _ to. At least that’ve told him he was  _ trying  _ to enjoy himself. “It’s a damn good thing you showered,” Rhodey said, swigging down another sip. “That panel hates to be kept waiting. They take hours to decide and--” 

 

“--want it resolved in minutes.” Tony finished for him, minimizing the holograms to pick his water up, and drink the glass empty. “Tell me about it.” There was no need to pack, especially considering how little time it would take, and if need be -- he could buy what he needed. Tony mozied to the dishwasher and placed his glass inside, clicking it closed with a soft sigh. “I’ll let you know when I’m there.” 

 

“Hey,” Tony watched Rhodey set his drink down, come closer -- and slide both hands around him in a firm hug. “Be careful.” Tony’s breath stuttered, taken by surprise -- and yet how could he have? His arms reciprocated, pulling his friend closer with a tight grip, almost wishing he didn’t have to leave. He didn’t want to let go.  

 

“You got it.” 

 

\---

 

Tony read the documents once, twice, and a third time on his way. Half an hour soaring above the ocean gave him more than enough time to, but it still didn’t quite settle right in Tony’s gut. He was beyond used to getting missions that seemed irrelevant and unnecessary, but this one in particular struck him odd. Maybe he was reading too much into it -- after all, Italy was one of the many who had signed, and with their voice came power. Calling in Iron Man to resolve their countries’ civil issues didn’t sound like a half bad idea, when he took an outsider's’ perspective. 

 

Even so, he wasn’t the right guy to deal with civilians. The whole _ point _ of the Avengers was to have a team who could compliment each other, help out in areas where others couldn’t. They each had their own strengths, and this wasn’t one of Tony’s. Hell, the one man who resonated  _ best  _ with the people was Steve, but nobody in power would dare accept help from a labeled criminal. 

 

Two years ago, this would’ve been a much easier fix. 

 

He landed in Naples, touching down in a less populated area. Drawing attention to himself more or less usually resulted in more people in the path of danger, and without a team, he simply couldn’t keep that many people safe. Still, a few heads turned when armor clanked onto pavement, watching Iron Man armor dissolve into the attached reactor underneath his clean, crisp suit jacket. He adjusted the cuffs of sleeves, recalled nanites for sunglasses, and headed for the heart of the city. 

 

He never really enjoyed the professional front that followed  _ any _ form of government, but now more than ever was it a pain in his ass, expected to keep that diplomatic air about him even during missions. Fighting in a suit was uncomfortable, impractical, and really -- what was so bad about a couple thousand people seeing him in lounge pants? Normally Tony would have gone against it, done what  _ he  _ wanted to do (because let’s face it, he’s  _ Tony Stark _ ), but now wasn’t the time to get on the panels’ bad side -- especially now that he’d voiced his doubts about the Accords to Rhodey. 

 

He’d play along. “Friday, find me a route to the problem.” Tony’s lips curled at her exasperated noise, blinking as the quickest route lit up inside his glasses. It wasn’t too far; hopefully he could wrap this up quickly and prevent any civilian or authoritative messes. That, and hopefully finish in time for dinner; those burgers definitely couldn’t hold him for too long. 

 

Turning a corner took him down a narrow side-road, glad to see less people than he expected. For a civil unrest, the people out here didn’t seem to notice -- or maybe they just didn’t care. Regardless, Tony thought them smart to stay away from the chaos.

 

As he walked, a few would turn their heads, stare long enough that told Tony his appearance sparked their memory, but nobody stopped him to ask -- and on a day like today, that was perfectly fine. The whispers in Italian still caught his attention, unable to help but twitch lips into a smirk when the words weren’t of malice, but curiosity. 

 

Tony slid his hands into pockets as he rejoined the larger crowds on the main street, excusing himself when he came too close, or accidentally bumped into passerby’s. It was a low murmur of voices, enough to be complacent amongst it. Hazel eyes searched forward through the crowd, careful not to lose sight of where his destination lay. Already he could begin to hear the faint noise of disturbance, jaw tightening as the stress began to settle. 

 

This was ridiculous. Why did he even come here? They wouldn’t listen to Tony no matter  _ what  _ he tried. He had half a mind to turn around and  _ leave _ , were it not for the idea that people could get hurt.

 

Tony pushed forward, twisting to sidle past a larger group of people. Once-distant noises grew closer, louder in intensity as he veered for the left. Maybe the panel had taken considerably less time  _ because _ the matter was so urgent -- but even Tony needed a couple hours to book it across the Atlantic. A weak plume of smoke caught Tony’s eyes, raising attention to the source, and how far. The crowd noticed it too, the low murmurs growing with confusion, fear, and uncertainty. 

 

_ “Tony--”  _

 

The voice hardened his blood, paled his face - and he began to look behind him-- **_no_ ** . Tony’s head snapped back forward, hurrying to push through the rest of the crowd to close in on the position. If there was smoke, there were more problems than a simple civil disobedience, and Tony didn’t have time to humor the crazy part of his mind. 

 

A louder explosion rumbled the ground, and Tony stumbled with a gasp. A much larger plume dirtied the air, screams from both ground zero and the nearby people drowning his ears. He started again, running this time, as he started the formation of his suit. 

 

“Everybody move--! _Mossa!_ _Trova un posto sicuro!”_ A thirty minute refresher on Italian might have done him good, but it didn’t matter now. They got the message and were corralling in the opposite direction, leaving Tony sprinting for the source (as well as he could in this damn suit).

 

Nanotech covered him from head to toe, eyes facing forward as the glasses melded into the rest to create his faceplate. The blue slits illuminated, and Tony kicked off the ground to hurry for the hazy air. “Friday, I want numbers. Injured first.” Another explosion turned armored head towards the plumes, teeth gritting tightly. “Find me a source.”

 

_ “Seventeen with substantial injuries, boss -- working on a source now.”  _ Shit. A handful Tony could move in one fell swoop, but seventeen? He’d have to work fast, and hope another explosion didn’t trigger, or there would be a  _ lot _ more than that. Ground zero came into view quickly, easing off thrusters to quickly assess the situation. 

 

Buildings crumbled, damaged by the explosions. People ran, struggling for a direction that would lead them away from the chaos. The police were no help -- they were just as scrambled as the civilians, and time was already against Tony, masked face paling when dripping gasoline spread the smouldering flames of the rubble. 

 

“Contact any nearby authorities for evacuation.” Tony killed thrusters, clanking down abruptly beside a big cluster of injured people. His eyes quickly counted five, stepping forward to lean down and take the hand of a nearby man. _“Vieni con me._ ” He instructed, relieved when he followed without question, coughing through the heavy layer of smoke. Tony passed the man from one hand to the other, so he could reach for another, hauling them up and out of the rubble. 

 

_ “Boss, several devices are rigged to blow.”  _

 

So much for civil unrest. 

 

The bombs lit up in his HUD, heart lurching at noticing one just feet from where he was evacuating people.  _ “Velocemente, rapidamente!”  _ Tony urged, hauling up the last one as quickly as he could to funnel them all away. He turned to the one with the least injuries, pointing an armored finger in the direction scanners showed still had a clear exit.  _ “Quel modo. Vai in quel modo.” _ They nodded, hurrying to guide the rest as Tony turned to face the closest of the devices. 

 

Stress weighed down Tony’s chest, eyes rapidly flicking across his screen as he moved forward to dig the bomb out from under rubble. “Figures these are old-school.” No technology meant no hacking -- which meant these were going off, whether he liked it or not. The only thing that could make this worse was -- oh yeah -- the raging  _ fire.  _

 

One more shove of a concrete slab uncovered the device, armored fingers quickly picking it up. He pushed roughly off the ground, holding the package tightly between hands; no way he was risking it slipping at such high speeds. Tony climbed higher, well above two-hundred feet, and reared back his arm to launch it upwards. He couldn’t let the fact he was seriously outnumbered and pressed for time to distract him from getting every bomb a safe distance from the city--starting with this one. Both arms took aim, following the arc and igniting it with two repulsor blasts to create a very large, very loud -- but very contained explosion. Tony released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and very quickly looped himself around to head for the ground. 

 

“One down--” Tony switched screens to display the bombs remaining, “--four to go. Piece of cake.” Twelve injured, four bombs, raging fire -- no problem, _ whatsoever _ . 

 

The best part about this was -- Ross would give him _ hell  _ for it. 

 

Tony worked as hard as he could, as fast as he could to usher people to safety and contain the fires, all while uncovering the bombs planted. It was going somewhat smoothly, that was, until the groan of a damaged building said  _ otherwise _ . Tony wanted to groan too, separating from the group of people that were starting their way out of this mess to control the situation. 

 

Which would have been much easier, had half the building not started to crumble. 

 

“Friday--” 

 

_ “If that building falls, the bomb below it will detonate.” _

 

“--not what I was asking. I can see just fine. Boost powers to rear thrusters.” Tony instructed, eyes frantically pinpointing the weak points of the structure separating from its foundation.  _ Got them _ . Both gauntlets raised to dispense stabilizing nanites to the accessible points, gritting teeth tightly when the large chunk fell faster than he could work. “That’ll have to do--!” Tony exclaimed as the structures’ shadow engulfed him, raising hands to roughly catch it. 

 

Tony strained, arms shaking with effort. The building was heavy even  _ in  _ the armor, and it forced Tony to push a heavier reinforcement of nanites around gauntlets. It was the only way he could stabilize his grip, and even then, he was having trouble. 

 

“--How long until detonation--!?” Tony growled, looking for somewhere, anywhere he could set this down in time to get to the bomb. 

 

_ “Any second now, boss--!”  _

 

Fuck it. 

 

Tony twisted fast, launching the structure down into the empty street with a deafening thud. The structure crumbled instantly, dust mixing with smoke and fire as Tony zipped down to find the bombs’ nesting place. Any second meant  _ any _ second, and Tony wasn’t keen on finding out if that meant  _ this _ second. He shoved away rocks, dug under displaced bricks, uncovering the device -- 

 

_ Boom. _

 

\---

 

Tony woke to ears ringing, choking in hot, stagnant air. Fog settled heavy on Tony’s conscious, lost to the idea of why his chest burned like fire, and what made his whole body ache. It wasn’t until Tony found he couldn’t move, did he begin to piece the situation together. 

 

_ The explosion. _

 

Larger chunks of building still fell, crumbled pieces clinking off the parts of armor still exposed to air. Tony struggled to gasp another breath, realizing now damn near half a building had him pinned. “Shit--” He tested how well his arms moved, twisting gauntlets in their splayed position, but no budge. He sucked in another breath, squeezing eyes tightly shut. 

 

Concentrate,  _ dammit _ .  

 

Tony’s mind finally snapped into place, nanites slithering out underneath the heavy building. They fortified arms, and created scaffolding atop the damaged chestplate, enough to force the rock a few inches up and give Tony the window he needed. It still wasn’t easy, sweat already beading at forehead as he strained to palm the rock upwards. “C’mon--!” He snapped, gauntlet thrusters finally pushing the rock the rest off the way. It toppled heavily, more rubble spraying down onto Tony in consequence, but he could finally  _ breathe _ . 

 

Coughs and pain-laced wheezes stuttered from Tony’s mouth, but he didn’t dare dissolve his helmet in such an unstable place. He took it slowly, clearing eyes of their last blur to try and distract himself from the crushing chest pain. His chestplate must have taken the brunt of it, blue eyes fixating on the scorch marks and discolored paint. 

 

Where the hell was he? “Friday--” Tony coughed again with a painful spasm of his rib muscles. “Casualties--?” He was out of breath, his own voice muffled as if cotton filled his ears. 

 

_ “No casualties boss, area secure.”  _

 

Tony felt a weight of stress lift, breathing out his worries about others involved in the explosion. The real question was -- where the hell had that blast landed him? A brief look around told him inside a building for sure -- but how far he’d gone was beyond him. With a blast range close enough to knock him out cold, Tony could’ve been hundreds of feet away. 

 

A muffled noise turned Tony’s head, the source of it unclear. The visibility was shit, dust still trying to settle from the overturned building, keeping Tony more than disoriented. It almost sounded like a voice--but who in their right mind would be so close? 

 

A nice smack to the armored head opened his ears a little more, clearing throat with a dry cough. 

 

“--y?” 

 

Tony frowned, fingers gripping onto the nearest stable structure to stabilize himself. That was definitely a voice. He started to answer, but his mouth contorted into pain before words could flow out, chest splintering out with a horrible ache. A blast into soft, delicate tissue never made for good feelings--especially when that same place fostered his heart for the better part of five years. 

 

“Over here,” Tony hoarsely managed, voice beginning to sound like it belonged to him again. If these were cops, Tony might pretend to play dead -- and hope they’d go away. 

 

What Tony saw was a thousand times worse than any cop. He would have taken  _ Justin Hammer _ over the figure that came into view, broad, dirtied by ash, and hurrying quickly to get a hand around damaged armor. 

 

“Tony,” Steve breathed, and Tony short-circuited.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some simple translations for Tony's Italian (these are all via Google Translate as I definitely do not speak Italian). 
> 
> "Mossa! Trova un posto sicuro!” - Move! Find a safe place!   
> “Vieni con me.” - Come with me.   
> "Velocemente, rapidamente!” - Quickly, quickly!  
> "Quel modo. Vai in quel modo." - That way. Go that way.


	5. Chapter 5

The touch was electricity; it jolted Tony to his core, made him recoil so hard he stumbled back-first into the rubble.

 

Steve Rogers?  _ Here? _ In  _ Italy? No _ . 

 

“Tony--” Steve quickly lurched forward to help, worry clouding blue eyes at the state of Tony’s armor, only able to catch the tail end of what had even happened. Whatever it was, Tony seemed shaken-- 

 

“ _ You _ \--” Tony spat, jarred by the fall. “--don’t touch me.” Steve froze, eyebrows knitted tightly together as he reluctantly obeyed, straightening his posture. Tony’s fingers dug into rubble, staggering back to feet with a ragged breath. Blue met blue, and Tony felt his heart pull six different ways. 

 

“You’re not real.” Tony decided after three  _ extremely _ long seconds, staggering his way towards the hole Steve’s spangly ass had wandered through. This was one big hallucination; he hit his head on impact, he was  _ imagining  _ things. Steve Rogers couldn’t  _ grow a beard  _ that nice. 

 

His pace faltered as Steve reached outward, gripping Tony’s arm when it was clear he couldn’t walk straight. “Take it easy,” He was obviously delusional -- in shock, maybe, but Steve paid the price with a clumsy armored punch to the jaw, staggering a foot back to catch himself. He couldn’t say he didn’t deserve that for laying hands on him again.

 

“Wow,” Tony slurred, already threatening to lose balance again. “--you  _ are  _ real.” Much to his displeasure, Steve’s dirtied hands gripped him again, dipping under a shoulder to help carry his weight. Tony wanted to jerk out of his grip, grab him by that dirt-stained collar and shake him senseless; it was the  _ least  _ he deserved, but he was too damn disoriented to do much more than imagine it. “I don’t  _ need _ your help.” His words were bitter, tired, and Steve could hear all of that. 

 

“You’re hurt, Tony.” 

 

Tony scoffed.  _ Tony _ . How many damned times had his mind tricked him into hearing  _ that? _ “Oh, you noticed?” A painful cough rattled armor, taking the first steps for the way out, and whether he needed Steve’s help or not; he was getting it. 

 

Fan-fucking-tastic. 

 

He hurt. He hurt in ways  _ unimaginable _ . What universal force hated him so strongly that it would place he and Steven Grant Rogers in the same country, same city, same crisis? 

 

Evidently,  _ all of them _ . 

 

His ears were finally clear enough to hear the quiet sigh from beside him. Tony hoped he hadn’t expected a hug. 

 

They kept quiet while they cleared the wreckage, maneuvering around the last of the haphazard rubble, and onto the damaged street. A quick glance told Tony the situation was much more under control. The once-raging fires smoldered, smothered with water, police were securing the area, and the only people left were he and the dirty hobo helping keep him stable. 

 

Which reminded him. He didn’t  _ want _ the dirty hobo helping him.

 

Tony placed the hand not slung around Steve against that grimy once-starred chest, trying to distance himself. Steve wouldn’t budge. “What are you doing here?” 

 

Steve's eyes settled on the blue of the faceplate, a concerned expression clouded with stern, furrowed eyebrows. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

 

“I asked you first. Spill.” God. The fact he was even _ talking _ to him was beyond Tony. He should leave. Shove harder at the guy’s chest and split. 

 

“We’ve been here a few days,” The answer came distracted, eyes lowering themselves to get a better look at Tony’s scuffed up armor. “Tony--are you okay?” 

 

We? 

 

He ignored his question. “Your fugitive friends tagged along?” Tony scoffed, refusing to dissolve the mask as he turned his head. There was no way in hell he was getting rid of the only barrier keeping he and Steve Rogers looking eye to eye. If he did, he wasn’t sure  _ what _ he’d do.  

 

“You know I’m supposed to bring you in. Right?" Tony pressed on Steve’s chest again, a little harder this time. Nothing. “Those’re the orders.” 

 

Steve only sighed -- god, Tony _ knew _ that meant he disapproved. What was new? “Somehow I don’t think you will.” He answered, raising troubled eyes back to blue slits. “I tried to flag you earlier. Before the bigger explosion.” Steve gently tugged on Tony’s arm to indicate they were moving again, further away from ground zero. “I guess you didn’t hear. Before I could catch up, people needed evacuating.” 

 

Tony’s eyes squeezed shut. The voice in the crowd. The one time--the  _ one _ time he hadn’t looked. Would it really have been any different if he had looked back? Maybe Tony could have thrown his pride away for  _ ten minutes _ to work with him and diffuse those bombs faster. 

 

Yeah,  _ maybe _ . But what did it matter? It was too late now. 

 

His arm lamely fell back to his side, along for the ride -- wherever the hell that meant. They stepped over parts of building and debris, heading for where Tony  _ thought  _ was the same place he’d directed evacuation earlier, but Steve’s course turned them down another, smaller road. “Never pegged you as the kidnapping type.” Tony began to fidget again, pain splintering out from his chest. “Let go.” 

 

“I can’t stay here, and you can’t stand.” Steve countered, knowing the circumstances weren’t great to say the least, but he couldn’t just _ leave _ Tony. 

 

Tony thought differently. He could stand just _ fine _ . The walking was the problem. His balance was all off -- likely still disoriented from the close-range blast. He’d be fine in a few minutes, he was  _ sure _ . “Look--Rogers,” Tony growled, heart skipping a beat when blue eyes flicked in his direction. “I didn’t come all this way to be manhandled.” 

 

“Then why did you come?” Oh, there was the edge of sass Tony was waiting for. Likely from Steve’s patience wearing thin, but what did he care? 

 

“None of your business. Maybe it _would’ve_ been if you’d stuck around.” He retaliated sourly. This was Tony; he couldn’t help but bring it up so quickly. Two years this asshole had been gone, and he wasn’t about to let a minor (debatably, worse than that) injury stand in his way. Really, he’d often wondered what the _hell_ his first words to Steve would be when they-- _if_ they crossed paths again, how he’d tell him off, bark at him for not being there when he _needed_ him most _,_ but he never expected it to be like this, hurt and half draped around his broad shoulders. 

 

Steve hesitated a moment in his answer, Tony wasn’t quite sure why. “You and I both know why I couldn’t stay, Tony.” He finally averted eyes, helping Tony down another small alleyway, no people to be had. 

 

Yeah, Tony knew  _ perfectly _ well. 

 

He coughed again, weaker this time. “If you think for a second I’m reconciling with him--” 

 

“He’s not here.” Steve quickly cut him off, briefly casting eyes to armor. “You can take your helmet off -- it’s easier to breathe here.” 

 

Tony averted his gaze, even if Steve couldn’t tell where his eyes fell. “It comes off when I want it to.” It gave him mixed feelings, why Barnes wasn’t tagging along with his bestie. But it wasn’t enough of a problem to have Tony starting a conversation, either. 

 

This was getting ridiculous, anyways. 

 

Every so often, Steve would readjust his grip on Tony, and each time more pain ran through his body. Finally, he’d had enough, jerking arm away from Steve -- but with no luck. “Would you-- _ stop _ ?” Tony hissed, lip curling with heavy frustration. Half of him wanted to dissolve the suit into the reactor again to keep this from being so difficult, but he wasn’t quite ready to. And by the way Steve’s eyes were shifting from each side of the edge of the alleyway they were stopped at, they must’ve been close anyway. 

 

“In a minute,” Steve answered, veering right. Tony helplessly followed. “First, you’re getting looked at.” 

 

Tony’s blood chilled. “I’m  _ not  _ coming to your secret clubhouse.” Was he _ moronic?  _ What part of Tony’s hostility made Steve think he was remotely comfortable with this? “I’m going  _ home _ .”

 

Their pace slowed, and Steve’s grip shifted again. “You can’t.” 

 

“ _ Excuse _ me?” 

 

“You can’t.” Steve repeated calmly, eyes meeting slits again. “I read the Accords, same as you. You can’t leave without a debriefing.” 

 

Son of a  **_bitch_ ** . 

 

“I  _ hate  _ your memory.” Tony muttered, and he  _ swore _ he saw a twitch of a goddamn  _ smirk _ . Smug bastard. 

 

They finally paused at a heavy door, Steve’s dirtied knuckles rapping against it in a unique pattern. Tony took it to memory -- just in case -- watching silently as the lock clanked loudly, swinging open inward to let them inside. Tony scoffed, not surprised in the least by the secrecy, but he  _ was  _ surprised by the face behind the door. 

 

Fortunately for him, Nat looked just as surprised, maybe even a little alarmed--not that Tony could blame her. Finally, she found the words to speak, stepping aside to allow entry. “It’s been awhile, shellhead.” 

 

“Feel free to make it longer,” Tony replied as Steve started them through, and down a narrow hall of stairs. He  _ seriously _ wished this was under better circumstances. He knew Ross couldn’t track him (Ross made it very clear he hated that, which was half the reason Tony kept it that way), but on the off chance somebody saw them together -- anybody who was here could be in trouble. 

 

Regardless of Tony’s comment, Natasha smirked, closed the door and turned the heavy lock until it clicked into place. “Take that up with Steve. He’s got quite a grip on you.” 

 

Yeah, he  _ knew _ . 

 

The three descended down the stairs, each step bringing Tony closer to his own personal dungeon. This  _ had  _ to be a dream; another one of his nightmares. Surely he was still in the compound, sleeping soundly in his bed.

 

The only problem was, this dream had  _ people _ in it, and his nightmares always left him alone.

 

One last awkward clank of armor set him down on ground level, arm still uncomfortably draped across Steve’s shoulders. “You can let  _ go _ now,” Tony muttered for the umpteenth time, glad when Steve finally thought it alright to let him walk on his own. Either that or Steve had been skeptical to let him go, afraid Tony would take the first opportunity to split--in which case, he would have been very right. 

 

Tony didn’t waste any time in distancing himself from Steve, pushing past him to move further into--wherever the hell he was. The room was big enough, old raggedy furniture placed in odd nooks and crannies of the space. If Tony had to guess, its former use was a club venue. “I  _ love _ what you’ve done with the place,” Tony slowly made for the middle of the room, now that he was  _ barred _ from leaving. “Really suits the--” He finally dissolved the helmet into armor, wobbly turning on a heel to look at Nat, who was exactly  _ not _ Steve. “--three, four--? Help me out.” 

 

“Three. But I guess you make four.” 

 

The third voice surprised Tony, head swishing around -- and almost wishing he hadn’t when a spell of dizziness followed. White dotted his vision, grunting when someone’s hand gripped him -- and by god it better  _ not  _ have been Steve’s; he’d touched him enough for one day -- to keep him from falling sideways. 

 

He took the help, finally understanding which direction was upright when two more hands pressed flush against his back. A winded “‘I’m alright,” parted dry lips, hazel eyes blinking hard as they slowly regained their sight. Damn, maybe the explosion had taken more out of him than he thought. 

 

Still, he continued to assure he was alright, but the first hand still held tight on his arm. Tony trailed eyes up to its owner, dipping head with a half-hearted smile. “You got me. I’m good.” But it didn’t look like Sam believed that. For good reason, he supposed. 

 

“A bleeding head counts as good to you?” The smirk was faint, but visible on Sam’s lips, tugging him closer to encourage Tony to follow. He did, albeit slowly, already noticing the difference without Steve’s support. “Really says something about how your life’s going.” 

 

“I’ve had better days,” Tony admitted, compliantly following Sam’s directions to sit him down on a questionable-looking couch. What really bothered him, was the loose follow Steve gave -- enough to be within his periphery. God, he was like a lost puppy. For that very reason, Tony kept his eyes wandering,  _ conveniently _ skipping over the space that held Steve while Sam snagged the first aid. 

 

“You’re gonna have to take the suit off,” Sam started, sitting sideways to face Tony properly. “—unless you’re naked under that.” Tony snorted; it almost looked like an honest question, considering this suit conformed much tighter to his body. 

 

“Not this time.” He lightly teased. Nat rolled her eyes, the corner of Steve’s mouth twitched, and Sam snorted, dropping eyes to rummage through the container for antiseptic. It gave Tony the time he needed to recall nanites, uncovering the rumpled dress suit underneath. He glanced up, finding all three were surprised by the suits’ disintegration, but it’d have to be a query for another time, considering this was their first meet up in  _ years _ . The way a suit operated was hardly the hot topic. 

 

Tony hissed in air, calloused fingers gingerly rubbing across the more sensitive parts of his chest. He was  _ so _ sore, but the lack of scarlet blotching the fabric told him it was just major bruising -- maybe a few cracked ribs from the pain that came with breathing. It made the job easier for Sam, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

 

For Sam’s convenience, Tony lifted fingers to push back jacket, and undo the buttons of his undershirt. And boy did that get Sam’s eyebrows to furrow, pulling the shirt further off Tony’s collarbone to see how far the bruising stretched. “And this happened how?” He inquired. 

 

Hazel eyes briefly drifted from Sam, making the mistake of letting them fall on Steve. “It’s fuzzy.” He lied -- well it wasn’t a  _ full  _ lie; it  _ was _ hard to remember how he’d woken up underneath rubble but, he figured it was best kept vague for now. Besides, it was done and over with-- 

 

“Multiple IED’s, from the sounds of it.” Steve clarified, eyes briefly holding Tony’s gaze before they moved to Sam. “No serious injuries--” Tony’s jaw tightened, feeling Steve’s eyes  _ graze _ over his exposed chest.  _ Yeah, take your time. _ “--Tony evacuated everyone in time.” 

 

Sam wet cloth with antiseptic, tilting Tony’s head his way to dab at the cuts across his forehead. “It’s a damn good thing you were there then,” Sam commented, easing up a little when Tony hissed his discomfort. “But I think I speak for all of us when I ask, why  _ were  _ you? There’s no way you got clearance that fast.” The only way he could have is if he were visiting Italy on his own time. And by the prominent dark circles, Sam could tell he hadn’t been on a vacation in a  _ while _ . 

 

The question tensed every muscle in Tony’s body. Sam was a good guy, he knew his intentions weren’t to trap him; but this was all very constricting, between the unexpected reunion, the pressing questions and worst of all, the physical restraint of first-aid keeping him from bolting. It didn’t help all three were staring straight at him, and while Tony was  _ great _ at faking to a crowd, these were his friends (well,  _ most _ of them were). 

 

“Technically, it’s classified.”  _ Duh _ . “Got called in for civil unrest.” His shoulders sagged, starting to feel his exhaustion properly settle in. “Guess my plans changed.” He hoped his discomfort wasn’t too noticeable, palms rubbing themselves together as Sam addressed a cut on his cheek.

 

“The panel has you as a peacekeeping force now?” Steve muttered, much to Tony’s disdain. 

 

“ _ Obviously  _ they needed it.” Tony didn’t want to get into the fact he had  _ serious _ doubts about the Accords. Now  _ especially _ after all of this. “I go where they need me.” He said, hoping his dismissive tone would ward off any further comments, but this  _ was _ Steve Rogers. 

 

Somehow, Steve kept his mouth shut. 

 

Nat took the rare opportunity, brushing her way past Steve to gently squeeze Tony’s bruised shoulder. “Whatever you came for, it’s good to see you.” Tony managed a tired smile; she reciprocated. “These two can’t quite make up for your special talent in witty comments.” 

 

“That, I believe.” Even if his smile was worn out, boy was he glad to see them. Safe, no less. And now that all three had welcomed him with no hostile intentions, Tony could relax a little. 

 

Steve, however, was still very on the hook. 

 

“Naples, huh?” Tony grimaced when Sam dabbed slightly harder. “You three fit right in.” Steve shifted uncomfortably. Maybe it was because he was dirtied in ash from head to toe. A shower would do  _ real _ good, buddy. 

 

“Yeah, well,” Sam kept Tony’s head straight with one hand, while the other changed towels to clean with. “Can’t be too picky when everybody’s lookin' for your face.” He answered, watching as Tony’s lips thinned.

 

“They’re desperate to find you. Paranoid’s an understatement.” Tony said, tilting chin as Sam instructed. “Might be a good time to pick a new vacation spot.” 

 

Nat lightly brushed a few longer curls from his forehead, ruffling the messier parts. The fluffy look suited him. “Job’s not done yet, but we can take care of ourselves.” Her lips thinned into a smile, as Tony strained to see her in his periphery. “The question is, can you?” 

 

Honestly? Tony wasn’t sure anymore. 

 

Maybe he would have admitted that if Steve weren’t within earshot. 

 

“Always.” Tony simply answered, and Nat’s smile softened, taking hands away to give the two more space. “What’s this job?” 

 

“Technically,” Nat started, walking for a corner to snag her batons. “It’s classified.” Tony snorted, uncomfortably adjusting in his spot, though careful not to disrupt Sam’s work. “We’re handling smaller problems, nothing serious. But we’re not leaving until they’re dealt with.” Why was he not surprised? Still helping even when the whole world didn’t want them to. 

 

“In fact,” Nat continued, sliding weapons into their sheaths. “Sam and I were on our way out.” 

 

Tony stiffened. Sam couldn’t keep his laugh in, which earned him a dirty look. “You--” 

 

“Relax, we’ll only be a few hours.” That was a few hours  _ too many _ . Tony squirmed, and Sam anchored him down by the shoulder. Steve wasn’t amused, no, he looked more anticipative; and that made Tony’s stomach churn. 

 

_ Don’t do this to him. _

 

Sam cleaned the last of the cuts, setting rag beside him. “Any other place you need me to look at?” Yes, all of them. He could do a full body exam if it meant he wasn’t left alone with Steve. 

 

But, his better judgment decided against it. “No,” he answered, buttoning up his undershirt to mute the glow of the reactor. “You’ve done enough.” 

 

Sam nodded, even if he wasn’t convinced himself, placing used supplies back into the container. He gathered the bloody towels, tossing them into the trash on his way to return the first-aid. “Let me know if that changes,” He told Tony, who faked a smile. “If you’re here when we’re back, that is.” 

 

That was a  _ big _ if. If Tony had it his way, he’d already be conducting his debriefing, and on the way home to see Rhodey. But when did he ever get his way? Why couldn’t he run from his problems in peace? 

 

Steve stepped aside to let Sam through, clasping hand firmly to his shoulder. “Be careful.” He advised, patting the guy as he and Nat made for the stairs. Tony fumbled with the last of his buttons, desperate to keep his eyes off of Steve. 

 

The real panic set in when the door clunked closed. 

 

The room echoed emptiness, it stunk of tension, and Tony wanted to disappear into the couch. 

 

Steve’s sigh was the first thing to break the silence, the dull thud of boots coming closer followed. “Tony,” 

 

Tony’s legs sprung himself to stand. He wouldn’t be caught dead in a position of inferiority, not to the likes of Steve. “Don’t  _ Tony _ me.” He growled, taking his own sore steps to show Steve this wasn’t a one-sided road. “If you think for a  _ second _ we’re even remotely OK, you’re getting a foot  _ right up _ your--” 

 

Warmth swallowed him, strong arms wrapping Tony so securely he was sure he’d melt. He was shaking, trembling where he stood, and Steve  _ squeezed, _ carefully cupping the back of Tony’s head. 

 

“Tony, I’m so sorry.”   
  



	6. Chapter 6

The hug downright froze Tony, captivated by its warmth, and had it not been for the jolt of those few words, he might have stayed there.

 

Sorry? 

 

He was  _ sorry? _

 

“No,” Tony started dryly, shoving arms to unlock from Steve’s embrace. “--you don’t get to  _ be _ sorry.” One more push roughly separated the two, and Tony clumsily staggered steps backward to further their distance.

 

Accepting his apology was the easy way out. This had been weighing down, no-- _ suffocating  _ Tony for  _ two years.  _ He was tired,  _ exhausted  _ from carrying it for so long, but he’d be  _ damned  _ if he was letting Steve walk easy. 

 

He raised arms with a forward gesture, exasperated expression narrowing eyes. “I’m  _ curious _ , how did you _ think _ this was gonna go? One hug and an--incredibly  _ late _ apology--which means  _ nothing  _ by the way--and we’re good to go?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, and Tony jabbed a finger in his direction. “I don’t  _ care  _ if you’re sorry. You’re not. You wanna know how I know that?” Tony stepped closer, closer, until his finger pushed right into the middle of the dirtied star. 

 

“Because you  _ left _ .” His tongue felt thick with malice, hazel eyes unwavering in their glare to blue. Blue that reacted with muddled emotions, and silence. 

 

Good. Glad he had his attention.

 

Tony dropped his hand, narrowing eyes. “The Avengers needed you.  _ I--,” _ His voice faltered, quickly finding his next words. “--needed you. And you?” He scoffed. “You weren’t there.” 

 

He didn’t dare break his gaze with Steve, shoving hand into a pocket to snag the outdated phone he’d so  _ generously _ given him.

 

Fuck the letter. Fuck the phone. As far as Tony was concerned -- they were half-ass attempts at the  _ most _ . He might as well have broke it off over a text. 

 

“This is yours.” Tony growled, empty hand upturning Steve’s palm, unkindly placing phone into it. “You can _ have _ it.” Steve’s eyes remained locked on Tony, who was almost  _ surprised _ he hadn’t found a word or two to sneak in. Finally his eyes lowered, fingers closing around the device with a slow, quiet sigh. Tony wondered just how many justifications Steve was conjuring, stomach twisting with stress just  _ thinking  _ about the situation he’d gotten himself into -- no, that  _ Steve _ had gotten them into. 

 

Finally, Steve opened his mouth. 

 

“I’ve thought about it a lot--” Steve admitted, eyes still lowered to the phone wrapped in his hand. “--every day. You have every right to be angry.” Tony almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Steve Rogers, openly admitting fault? “I hurt you, Tony. I won’t make excuses.” 

 

Tony blinked hard, struggling to keep the surprise out of his eyes. 

 

“I wish things ended differently. I really do. With the Accords, with Bucky,” Steve carefully lifted eyes, voice soft. “with your parents.” 

 

Chewed out, and still Steve offered a soft voice. 

 

Tony’s lip curled in frustration, eyes blinking once more to clear the shock. “It’s hard to yell at you when you agree with me.” Steve offered the faintest of smiles, and Tony crossed arms over his chest--until he realized how bad of an idea that was. Ow. 

 

“You’re such an asshole.” Tony muttered, slowly bringing the tips of fingers to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t done -- he couldn’t be. One lecture and a slap on the wrist wasn’t enough. “You broke our trust.” He wanted to make that  _ blatant _ . 

 

“I know.” Steve agreed (was he being a suck-up, or spend two years realizing how much of a dick he’d been?). “I want to fix that.” 

 

He exhaled, much shakier than he’d intended - goddamn, why not write vulnerable with permanent marker on his forehead? “You don’t get it.” He felt blue eyes stare down, wishing his armor was active to bring him to at  _ least  _ eye level. He’d look stupid if he tried that now. “There’s no coming back from that, Cap.” 

 

They were still so close, that Steve’s exhale tickled Tony’s skin. 

 

“I want to make things work between us. You’re my friend.” Sincerity coated Steve’s words - and while Tony wanted _nothing more_ than to accept that, he didn’t want to get hurt. Not again. 

 

His heart pulled in two directions, leaving Tony torn in half. 

 

“You said it yourself. You  _ hurt _ me.” Saying it himself proved more difficult than he thought. “You’re lucky we’re talking.” 

 

It was obvious Steve was regretful; Tony didn’t have sympathy. He  _ made _ his choice, did these things himself. He had to know there were repercussions, as much as Tony hated them too. 

 

Tony could see thinking amid blue eyes, as they slowly studied the expression of his face. “I might not deserve a second chance,” The slow raise of Tony’s eyebrow had Steve clearing his throat. “--alright. Point made.” He finally dropped his eyes, gaze drifting around the room to hopefully lighten the tension. It was much appreciated (even had Tony’s shoulders untightening a little). “What can I do?” 

 

_ Come home. Help him undo this mess. _

 

“Take a shower.” Tony answered instead, glad to see his feet were finally working again as he distanced himself. “They’re likely to find you on smell alone.” Steve huffed a noise -- really, he shouldn’t have expected any different from Tony -- and settled his eyes on the battered man before him.

 

“Speak for yourself.” It was an attempt to lighten the mood, change the subject, Tony knew -- and appreciated it all the same, even if his emotions were still muddled. Steve took the hint and stepped for the showers, admittedly eager to wash the grime off. “I won’t be long.” He promised. 

 

Tony gave a curt nod. “Don’t make me say ‘two years later’.” 

 

\--- 

 

Black, empty. _ Cold. _ It was all-too-familiar. 

 

He couldn’t hear his name -- wasn’t that always what followed when he was here?

 

His steps echoed infinitely as he wandered, listening for some sort of call. Anything. 

 

_ “He’ll leave you.” _

 

Tony paled. Goosebumps ran. 

 

That wasn’t the normal voice. 

 

_ “You can’t trust him. Why bother? You think Cap will solve your problems?”  _

 

He didn’t need to see to know whose words bounced along the vast, dark emptiness. 

 

“ _ You  _ **_know_ ** _ how this ends. _ ” Tony gritted teeth.  _ “You, me, we’re meant to be alone. You deserve this. You broke up the team; you brought it to this. Stop acting.”  _

 

The voice was so close it tickled his ear, curling Tony’s fingers. 

 

_ “Let’s face it. If he really cared, he wouldn’t have left you. You’re nothing to him.”  _

 

He froze when the faint flicker of a broken suit reactor illuminated the bloodied, frostbitten face of its wearer.  _ Like he was looking in a mirror. _

 

_ “There is no  _ **_happy.”_ ** Ice-cold armor wrapped tightly around his throat, his own fingers scrabbling desperately for counterpressure as he choked.  **_“_ ** _ You make it  _ **_impossible._ ** _ We’re _ **_alone_ ** _.”  _ Tony pried and pulled, but the grip only tightened, feet scrabbling for nonexistent ground. 

 

“Stop--” Tony spluttered, hand pushing straight through the bloodied forehead with a horrible squelch. His voice cracked pitifully, the bones in his neck threatening to snap.

 

_ “We’re alone because of  _ **_you_ ** _.”  _

  
  


A horrible fit of coughing jolted Tony upright amongst tangled sheets, panic rising with the burn in his lungs. Oh god, oh  _ god--  _

 

A pitiful gasp bubbled from Tony’s throat when firm hands gripped his shoulders, hardly able to hear his name over the struggle to breathe. Hell -- he hadn’t even  _ seen _ who they belonged to, his vision refusing to properly register. 

 

“Tony--just breathe, hey--” He could  _ finally _ tell whose voice it was, hazel eyes searching for Steve’s. They were concerned, worried, confused. “Let me get you some water--” 

 

“No--” Tony managed, voice brittle and hoarse. Steve stopped dead in his movement, eyebrows furrowing heavily. “--don’t leave.” 

 

_ Maybe _ that was Tony’s panic talking, but regardless, he didn’t want to be alone. Steve’s grip loosened on an arm, carefully settling himself atop the comforter to give Tony the time he needed. If he could verbalize what was  _ wrong _ , maybe this could go smoother than it had so far. 

 

A warm hand brushed across Tony’s back, grounding him enough to begin to take proper breaths. Ragged wheezes still constricted his throat, but it was a start to regain control. And while he might have inched away from the comfort Steve was offering, it was clear he  _ needed _ it. 

 

Finally, he found the words to communicate. “Bad dream,” was all he disclosed, sure Steve was worriedly looking him over. Truth be told, his breathing wasn’t very convincing of  _ only  _ a dream. “Just need to--” He barely managed to stifle another cough, squeezing eyes shut. “--catch my breath.” 

 

Steve respected his wishes, keeping quiet. His hand started a rhythmic motion between hunched shoulder-blades, in hopes to give Tony a movement to match his breathing with. It worked, albeit slowly, and Steve took the opportunity to place his other hand against Tony’s middle, gently urging him to straighten his posture. They were soft, kind gestures, and Tony appreciated the help, even if he  _ was  _ disgruntled with Steve. 

 

Another minute of silence, and Tony finally composed himself. 

 

Weakly, he turned his head, connecting their eyes. “I could use that water now.” Steve smiled, worry heavy in his expression. 

 

He went to fetch a glass, giving Tony the last moment he needed to shake the panic. Calloused hands roughly drug down his face, rubbing at eyes to force the drowsiness away. The couch was the last thing he remembered, so how was it he was tucked under bedsheets? 

 

Tony _ groaned.  _

 

Don’t tell him Steve _ carried _ him.  

 

He dropped hands from his eyes, surprised to see Steve already back, water in hand. He hardly noticed the water, his eyes otherwise occupied by the blonde locks that were neatly brushed back, the white tank top that disclosed how sun-kissed skin was, and--the blue eyes that saw exactly where his were looking. 

 

Oh, give him a  _ break _ . 

 

Tony took the water, clearing his throat. “Thanks,” He gulped it down, not bothering to take it slow. To say he was parched would be an understatement. Besides, this was a great way to avoid talking. He shifted legs underneath covers as Steve sat beside him, actively participating in the game of, ‘don’t look at Steve’. 

 

The last sip reached his lips, and Tony leaned sideways, placing the glass atop the side table. “You tuck the others into bed too, or is that specially reserved for unwanted guests?” If nothing else, it made Steve snort. 

 

“I  _ did  _ try to wake you.” Steve remarked, brushing a few loose strands of hair back in line. “Guess chewing me out took it out of you.” Tony curled fingers around sheets, sparing a look to Steve. 

 

“Yeah--you had it coming.  _ Still _ \--have it coming.” Tony reminded, even if Steve surely knew. “How long was I out?” His suit jacket was gone, (thanks?) -- leaving only his undershirt to bunch up to check his watch. He hadn’t looked before he’d arrived -- but if he had to guess by the hunger pangs in his stomach, it’d been a while. 

 

“You slept through the night.” Steve answered, figuring by the glance down at his watch, he could gather that much. “Sam’s making breakfast, I figure you’re hungry.” 

 

Tony ran fingers through loose curls, stomach growling right on cue. “I’d be an idiot to pass on Sam’s cooking.” Even still, this was well past how long Tony expected to be in Naples; that debriefing was past due. And there was still the problem of the unknown explosions. It felt wrong to leave, not knowing who or what caused yesterdays’ chaos. 

 

He couldn’t make decisions like those on an empty stomach. 

 

Slowly, he pushed the covers aside and hauled to a wobbly stand. Soreness set in quickly, and Tony cleared his throat. “Lead the way, muscles.” 

 

\---

 

Breakfast was nice -- it reminded Tony of simpler times. Nat would steal a single bite of egg, Sam reciprocated with her bacon. Steve simply inhaled the contents of his plate, and Tony couldn’t keep the frequent smirk off his face, idly picking at his food. 

 

“That’s the  _ fourth  _ bite.” 

 

“Someone needs to go back to school; I count three, Wilson.” Nat winked, and Sam scoffed. “It’s not my fault you portioned unfairly.” 

 

“Why don’t you tell that to the bottomless pit on your right.” Steve wiped his mouth with a napkin, raising a hand in silent defense to the accusation. 

 

Tony took a bite of egg - strategically slouched in a way breathing didn’t hurt so much. “You catch it, you keep it.” Tony picked up a bite of egg between fingers, watching Nat visibly perk. He tossed and watched her dip to land it in her mouth, offering a loose clap for her efforts. 

 

“Nicely done, Romanoff. Now quit your whining.” Tony offered a smirk, popping another bite into his own mouth, while she sat back in her chair. 

 

Nat brushed a few white strands of hair out of her face, obviously pleased with herself. “Stark’s learned to share. About time you two did the same.” 

 

The remark dragged a snort from Sam, breaking another piece of her bacon off to pop into his mouth. “Right after you start cookin’, I’ll consider it.” Tony’s lips upturned at the comment, eyes briefly lingering on food to pick out a particularly nice bite. He slid fork into his mouth, lifting eyes--and catching Steve looking  _ right _ at him. 

 

Tony paused, fork still in mouth, and Steve averted eyes after what felt like  _ years _ , half-returning his attention to the two grown-children. 

 

His watch vibrated; he had a call. 

 

Distractedly, Tony tore his eyes from Steve, to lift hand and see who it was.  _ Great. _ “I’ll--be back.” He told them, not sure if the two playfully bickering even noticed, but it was clear Steve’s head turned as Tony stood to excuse himself. 

 

Tony double-checked to ensure his location was barred and headed into the bedroom. 

 

“Secretary Ross, to what do I owe the absolute honor?” Tony answered, denying the requested video feed. 

 

“Word has it you were seen at the scene of an explosion.” 

 

Yep, there it was. Honestly -- he was surprised Ross waited _ this _ long. 

  
“Uh--yeah. At your supposed, civil disobedience site--actually.” Tony slid hand into his pants pocket, aimlessly wandering the room. He picked up a couple miscellaneous items, sure they were here from the last users. “No civil disobedience here. Just a bunch of bombs.” 

 

Not that he thought Ross cared. “You were sent for _ that  _ purpose. Nothing else. That violates the accords, Stark.” Tony rolled his eyes; he wished Ross could’ve seen that. “The officials of Naples could have handled it.” 

 

“Except they didn’t. Even with my help, three bombs detonated on site. It could’ve been more--” 

 

“And  _ now,  _ because of your heroics, there’s about a ten inch stack of paperwork sitting on my desk.” 

 

Tony dropped a t-shirt back into the drawer he was rifling through. “Sounds to me like you shouldn’t be talking. Chop, chop.” He was  _ pretty  _ sure Ross was grinding his teeth. 

 

“Where are you?” 

 

“Uh, in Naples. Where else?” He asked such stupid questions. Tony picked a couple more shirts up, searching for one in his size. “Why, you thinking about vacationing with me?” 

 

“The council is  _ waiting  _ for a debriefing of your accident.” Tony snorted. “They’re not happy, and quite frankly, neither am I.” 

 

“I never could’ve guessed that.” Tony pulled a shirt that looked about the right fit for him, tossing it onto the bed. His eyes raised when the door opened, catching Steve silently sliding into the room and carefully shutting the door back. Tony raised a finger to lips, half tempted to shoo him out. 

 

“Just debrief the council. We’re having a  _ serious _ discussion when you get back.” Steve’s face dropped, which meant he recognized the voice. 

 

“I can’t wait.” Ross abruptly dropped the call, and Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. Steve stepped a little closer, and Tony huffed. 

 

“Ross?” Steve asked, and Tony nodded. 

 

“As much of the pleasure he was two years ago.” Tony ruffled chocolate locks, and met Steve’s eyes. “And you’re just as nosy.” 

 

Steve cracked a tiny smile, shrugging. “Old habits.” There were a  _ lot  _ of old habits Tony picked up on. 

 

He motioned to the shirt on the bed, unbuttoning the one he had on. “Tell the bickering twins they can fight over my scraps.” He desperately needed a shower, to help calm his muscles, and wash off the grime from yesterday. “I’m rinsing off.” 

 

Steve nodded, briefly grazing eyes across the dark bruises and raised scratches of Tony’s chest. “Let me know if you need anything,” He offered.

 

Steve sure was getting an eyeful today. Tony hesitantly nodded, shrugging undershirt off shoulders. “Clean underwear’d be nice.” He half-joked, brushing past Steve for the connected bathroom. Steve’s eyes lingered, tracing the curves and scars of Tony’s back. 

 

He smirked. “I’ll see what I can do.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The shower did wonders for Tony; it soothed achy muscles, rinsed the grime away, and gave him ample time to digest the last 24 hours. 

 

Which, quite frankly, was a  _ lot _ to digest.

 

Going against the Accords’ protocols and intercepting a potential terrorist attack, unexpectedly reuniting with a portion of his team -- one who Tony would have rather  _ not _ seen -- and confronting said person about their blatant issues. Yep, that was the gist, and even then it sounded like something out of a complete and utter nightmare. 

 

He told Steve off; he said things he wanted to say, but was it enough? 

 

To make things worse, he’d been half-disoriented and sore from the explosion when Steve more-or-less forced the conversation that way. In light of that, of his pain, of his exhaustion; did he let him off too easy? 

 

Part of him thought he did, the other, was confused. 

 

Tony pushed aside the old shower curtain, dragging fingers through wet locks to free the hair plastered to his forehead. He dried off, ruffling his hair last before draping the towel over the rusted bar. He should have bailed before breakfast, gotten a hotel himself--no. He’d be no better than Steve, leaving when they had a  _ chance  _ at healing the ugly scars defacing their relationship.  

 

He was still torn; should he even _ let  _ Steve try? 

 

A strained grunt escaped his mouth as he bent down, swiping clothes up off the floor. Not the best form of hygiene, reusing most of his clothes from yesterday, but what other choice did he have when he was fifty feet underground, fostered by three of the world’s most wanted criminals? 

 

Slowly, he sighed, rough fingers sliding on his underwear and dress pants. “Gross.” He muttered, bringing fingers up to rub at grime that stuck to his fingers as a consequence. Uncomfortable, but not his highest priority right now. 

 

Tony briefly looked around. Why wasn’t there a mirror in here? Without gel, Tony preferred his natural curls not sit atop his head like a dirty mop. Ah well, maybe it was for the best -- staring at his dark circles was never the ego booster anyways. He breathed slowly through his nose, washing the dirt off his hands to situate the curls as best he could. 

 

The bathroom door creaked horribly loud as Tony moved through, surprised to find the room empty. 

 

Steve probably went to scout for issues -- assuming that’s what he’d been doing yesterday before their untimely encounter. 

 

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to breathe slowly and enjoy the silence. 

 

He must have enjoyed it a little  _ too  _ much, because he caught himself nodding off, hands scrambling to grip the bed. Once he was stable, Tony sucked in a breath, straightened his posture, and dragged hand down his face. God, uninterrupted sleep and still, his eyes weighed heavy with exhaustion. 

 

The bedroom door opened just as Tony finished rubbing his eyes, blindly reaching hand for the shirt of his choosing lying on the bed. 

 

“Nat and Sam left for a recon mission,” Steve closed the door behind him softly, eyes falling on Tony’s bareback. “Said to take care, if you head out before they’re back.” Tony simply nodded, pulling the shirt over his head. Steve stepped closer, reading Tony’s body language. Nothing said ‘stay back,’ so he continued. “Can I ask a favor?” 

 

Tony shifted left, correct in his assumption that Steve wanted to sit beside him. “Ask away.” 

 

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Tony couldn’t help the snort that followed, but Steve persisted. “There’s something else on your mind. Something besides, all of this.” He hated Steve’s ability to read people, even if he knew he looked like absolute shit. “I know you can’t trust me. You don’t have to.” Tony’s eyes raised to blues. The fact that he was being so considerate came as a surprise. “I’m just a lending ear. If you want it.” 

 

Wanted? No. He never  _ wanted _ to share his burdens with others. 

 

_ Needed _ might be the better word. 

 

Tony sighed. Alright Rogers; he’ll bite. 

 

“Things haven’t been the same. Obviously.” Tony admitted slowly, anxiously pressing palms together. “It’s different. Been a rough adjustment period.” Could he even call it that? Exactly what had he  _ adjusted _ to? 

 

“I’m betting I’m not the only one.” Tony said, and Steve turned to face him a little better. 

 

“No, but we’re talking about you.” Steve gently reminded.

 

Right. Tony’s lips upturned in a brief, empty smile. He cleared his throat, eyebrows knitting together. “We broke it off, Pep and I.” Tony chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I say we--she needed someone a little more stable. My idea.” He knew even without looking blue eyes brimmed with sympathy. Tony squeezed his hands together. 

 

“Tony, I’m so sorry.” His words were genuine, soft around the edges, just as they had been the first time Steve heard news of their break. It tried to leave a sour taste in his mouth, but Tony knew he only meant well. 

 

He briefly met Steve’s eyes, straightening his posture. Lingering on that would only twist his chest tighter, so he shifted the focus. “I’ve been helping the kid. New suits, tech, whatever he needs.” Tony faintly mirrored the soft upturn of Steve’s lips. “Kid’s really making a difference.” 

 

Steve nodded. “I’ve seen the news. He’s got big things ahead.” He tried to keep the subject from veering too far. “Anyone else you’re helping out?” 

 

“Rhodey.” Tony answered, watching a form of guilt wash out Steve’s features. 

 

“How is he?” That was a question for  _ two years ago _ , but Tony let it slide. For now. 

 

“Alive. Better now. 10 months of physical therapy and custom leg-braces have him walking.” Tony explained, glad the look of guilt remained. It wasn’t directly Steve’s fault, but he didn’t stop it, either. 

 

“I’m glad, Tony.” He caught blue eyes flicking down to his bare shoulder, the shirt one-size too big. They both fell quiet, but Tony could tell Steve meant to say something. Finally, he did. “Is there something else?” 

 

Oh, plenty. 

 

“There’s always something.” Tony muttered, running hair through curls that were beginning to dry. 

 

Steve hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It doesn’t sound like Ross is helping.” He gave a bit of a sideways pull of his mouth. “Not that he ever helped with much of  _ anything _ .” Tony scoffed. 

 

Yeah, wasn’t  _ that _ the truth. 

 

“Making things about fifty times harder than they need to be, per usual.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck -- he just needed _ something _ to occupy his hands. “Evidently I’m getting an earful when I’m back.” He was sure Steve had been in the room to hear that much. 

 

“For helping stop an attack on civilians?” Tony heard the bitterness bleed into Steve’s words. “You did nothing wrong,” He stated, and Tony tensed, knowing where this was going. “This is exactly what’s wrong with the Accords.” 

 

He shut his eyes, tilted his chin down, and huffed. “I know.” There was no sense in arguing it now. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t exist solely to disagree with Steve. 

 

Evidently from the shocked expression that stunned Steve’s face, that was a belief Steve had too. It even dragged a “What?” From his pink lips, which told Tony he’d really expected a backlash. Typical. 

 

“Don’t make me repeat it.” Tony tiredly remarked. “You’re a bigger idiot than I took you for if you think I ever  _ liked  _ the Accords.” Steve’s mouth grasped for words, so Tony continued. “It was  _ hard _ compromise. It was never for us, it was for everybody else. You know that, I know that.” 

 

Finally, Steve’s mouth found traction. “What changed?” 

 

“Nothing.” Tony stated matter-of-factly. “Two years is more than enough time to rack up shitty stats -- plus, nobody’s in any hurry to make revisions.” It was obvious now they only served to hold power over enhanced individuals (He’d say The Avengers but, honestly. Who was left?). 

 

“Obviously, the Accords aren’t working.” Go ahead Steve, write this day down in your diary. “But if you’re looking to tell me ‘I told you so’, forget it. There was no  _ right _ argument.” Tony balled hands into fists, upset bubbling up in his throat. “If we’d stayed  _ together--” _

 

“The outcome would have been the same.” Steve reasoned, lightly resting hand on Tony’s back. 

 

“Half the Avengers wouldn’t be  _ fugitives _ .” Tony’s voice raised at his final word, hazel eyes boring into blue. “We’d still be a  _ team _ .” 

 

Steve exhaled slowly. “Even still, we’d be facing the same problem you are now.” Steve held Tony’s gaze, hand still spread against his back. “I know it’s not ideal--” Tony interrupted with a scoff, breaking their eye contact. “But we’re all doing our best with what we have.” 

 

Please. “This is your best? Hiding underground, smuggling into new cities every few days?” Tony didn’t understand why Steve had to be so damn optimistic all the time. “Your best is with the Avengers, in New  _ York _ . Working with your teammates without dodging city officials.” 

 

“You know I can’t come home.” 

 

“And whose fault is that?” Tony leaned in, throat tight with vulnerability. “I didn’t make you leave. Nobody but  _ yourself  _ made you leave.” Steve was closer too, his fingers curling into Tony. “We could have stayed  _ together _ , we could have done this  _ together, _ we could have fixed everything  _ together,  _ Steve--” 

 

“Tony--” 

 

He didn’t want to hear it.

 

“You made it clear what was important.” How did he get here? The words wouldn’t stop. “Right when you brought that shield down.” Steve’s eyes flicked from one hazel iris to the other, a heavy mix of emotions clouding blue eyes. 

 

His eyes were glassy, he knew it. 

 

Tony’s voice was hoarse, it hardly came out as a whisper. “You left me alone.” 

 

Steve processed his heavy words, cupping a hand around Tony’s cheek. “I didn’t have a choice.” 

 

Tony  _ wanted _ to be angry, push Steve away and shut him out. He damn well had a choice,  _ way  _ before the three were in Siberia.

 

Instead, Tony’s jaw tightened, vision blurring with tears. The pit of his stomach twisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

 

A warm thumb wiped the first tear rolling down Tony’s cheek, able to see the pain nestled deep in blue irises. “I didn’t know how.” Tony hissed in a breath; his fingers coiled around Steve’s wrist, threatening to pull him away. “I didn’t want to dig up old feelings, I knew it would devastate you.” 

 

“Tony, I  _ never _ meant to hurt you.” His thumb wiped another tear away, gentle in his movements. “I’m sorry I did. I’m sorry you’ve been living with that. It all happened at such a bad time.” 

 

He  _ was _ right about that. The Accords, Zemo’s framing, the winter-soldier scare, the truth about his parents. It was overwhelmingly negative memories, melded into one big amalgamation of  _ hurt _ . 

 

Tony was breaking, unraveling at his poorly-stitched seams. He couldn’t stop it, one mention of the Accords and he  _ knew  _ this would happen. Steve’s thumb swiped gently across his cheek, fingers shaking with the hold still firm around his wrist. “I  _ needed _ you--” Tony croaked, drowning under the weight of his burden. “--and you weren’t there.” 

 

Steve’s lips parted softly, leaning in so close his breath tickled Tony’s lips. “I’m here now.” 

 

His lips were warm, soft,  _ gentle _ , and they pressed delicately to Tony’s. 

 

All time stopped. Tony’s breath hitched, his heart fluttered, and his mind  _ reeled.  _

 

Steve Rogers was  _ kissing _ him. Steve. Rogers--was, kissing him? Uh, was it just him, or had this come _ completely _ out of left field? Wasn’t he just  _ yelling _ at him? Did showing his vulnerabilities scream,  _ kiss me _ ?

 

It ended before Tony could fully process, eyes trailing blues as Steve gently pulled away and caressed the outer edge of his cheek. He didn’t pull from the comfort -- how could he, sniveling like this -- glassy eyes squeezing shut to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. This was _ actually _ happening. 

 

With no protest, Steve pressed another, and another, until Tony’s lips succumbed and followed the rhythm. His hold loosened on Steve’s wrist, shock working against him to drop any threat of retaliation. His eyes never reopened, afraid if he did he’d wake up in his own bed, alone. 

 

Tony’s mind stuttered, it lagged as it tried to comprehend the soft lips on his, the silence that filled the air, save the soft noise of each kiss ending to make room for another. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, he should be pushing Steve  _ away _ . 

 

And yet, he did nothing to execute that thought, only letting Steve press himself closer, slide his hand down, and caress the small of Tony’s back. 

 

His kisses started careful, soft -- now Tony found himself stifling a noise as Steve’s teeth tugged at his lip. His breath hitched when he did it again, eyelids fluttering while his fingers searched for Steve’s arm. This was completely emotion driven; there was no logic behind this-- 

 

Fuck logic. He deserved to enjoy something for once. 

 

Tony’s breath stuttered, eyes opening as Steve’s hand slid around his side and across his abdomen, guiding him backwards to the strewn sheets. Wet curls fell aside, compliant as Steve urged them closer to the middle of the bed, his lips tingling with the absence of feeling. Thank god it wasn’t for long; Tony eagerly accepted the dive for another lock of lips, fingers carding through the long blonde locks that tickled his forehead. Closer like this, his scent flooded Tony, wrapping him in aching familiarity, something he hadn’t been able to grasp for  _ years _ . It only made Tony urge him closer, wanting him as close as possible before this was gone, over,  _ done _ .

 

Each taste of Steve had him wanting more, pulling him closer by the grip in his hair to kiss him deep. Steve’s tongue  _ finally  _ slipped inside, and Tony nearly moaned from the taste. More, more. Give him  _ more.  _

 

There was an inkling --  _ only _ an inkling -- of himself that scolded this, told him to stop, be rational and keep Steve from taking advantage of his emotions. 

 

_ Too late, _ Tony thought. He’d messed with his emotions for the better part of two years. And that was being  _ generous.  _

 

Steve’s tongue pressed deeper; Tony pulled on hair harder than he meant, but it only drove Steve forward, leg hooking over Tony’s waist in one swift motion to bring them closer, and Tony was warmer than ever. Large hands held each side of his face, thumbs brushing the curves of his cheekbones in a subtle, loving motion that melted Tony. How in the hell was he both so tender and eager? 

 

Even so, that eagerness was mutual. His own hands slid their way down to cup the nape of Steve’s neck, the other sliding down until it found where fabric parted from skin. Steve had a similar idea, parting palm from Tony’s cheek to slide warm fingers up under the shirt he wished he hadn’t bothered putting on. But -- lucky him, that was a problem easily solved by the man straddling him, who hesitantly broke their kiss to remove the pesky fabric. 

 

Blues met brown, and Tony’s breath hitched. 

 

“We’re doing this?” He breathed as Steve worked the fabric up over Tony’s chest. He hoped that didn’t convey he didn’t  _ want  _ to; it was--more of a reality check.    
  
Steve pulled the shirt over Tony’s head and arms that were eagerly raised, tossing it carelessly to the side. His eyes held a look that both took Tony’s breath away, and replenished it. “Looks that way.” 

 

Immediately, the two were closer than before, Tony’s fingers scraping up Steve’s back in a rushed effort to tear the shirt off, heavier breaths filling the silence between each sloppy kiss. He pulled and dragged until that tight shirt was gone, soft and unimaginably warm skin pressing flush against Tony’s chest so quickly he was certain by the end of this he’d be a damn  _ puddle. _ Tongues met; they curled and pushed against each other, and Tony _ moaned,  _ absolutely out of control. Steve quickly picked up on that and dove deeper, desperate to feel the rumble of his voice between their lips again. 

 

Tony nails scraped up Steve, who slid his hands to coil around smaller wrists, pinning them above moppy hair in a way that sent a hot spike of pure  _ want _ down Tony’s middle. Yes,  _ yes—  _ don’t hold back, oh please don’t hold back. Tony panted as Steve broke their kiss, and managed one smooth motion to both flip him to his belly, and eagerly nestle between his legs. The air prickled against skin as Steve  _ tore _ his pants and underwear away, like a damn wild animal who’d been deprived of a meal for  _ weeks. _ He didn’t have time to inquire, or even  _ consider _ what Steve was doing before large hands spread his cheeks, hot tongue lapping at his hole in one long stride. 

 

Tony  _ melted, _ moaning, gasping as Steve came for more, bunching sheets in the half thought of how nice a noise that would have drawn from Steve, had it been his back. “Steve,” he managed between a moan, face nestling into the nearest pillow when he went  _ deeper, _ sending Tony into a goddamn fit. It was hot, it was wet, it was fucking divine to feel the curl and push of Steve’s tongue inside him, his mind falling into a senseless chant of more, more  _ more.  _

 

His words were incoherent, hazy slurs of pleasure as Steve’s tongue plunged deeper, slicking every inch of Tony’s ass that damned thing could reach. His hips worked against the sheets, desperate for friction against his cock, untouched and  _ dying _ for attention with every twist of Steve’s tongue. If he kept at this, Tony wasn’t going to last. And somehow that bastard knew, slurping tongue back in with one last lick, squeezing hard enough on his ass to leave handprints behind; something Tony was  _ sure  _ Steve had meant for. 

 

“You’re beautiful,” Steve spoke, voice thick with want as pink lips trailed kisses up the curve of Tony’s spine. His fingers tightened against fabric, curling them hard when rough hands gripped each hip to hoist him to weak knees. He wobbled on them, the aftershock of being licked open so heavy on his body, he hardly had the capacity to hold a pose. Steve’s hands roughly ran down thighs, finding Tony’s cock to fondle. It throbbed with neglect, and Steve remedied that with rough tugs that had Tony  _ moaning, _ mindlessly fucking the warmth that relieved his ache. It brought a thin smile to Steve’s face, something Tony could  _ hear  _ in the heavier breaths that left him. He dipped his head, canted his hips, and moaned the other’s name as his cock  _ throbbed  _ with pleasure, but Steve was determined to be a damn tease, leaving him fucking into cold, meaningless air just as his voice began to crack with pleasure, leaving Tony panting and  _ desperate.  _

 

“Tease.” Tony’s voice mumbled hazily, scoffing at the panted laugh from behind. Tony dropped to the sheets, rolling himself over in time to catch Steve palming his own incredibly tight pants, dragging a long lick across his lips in a heavy spike of arousal. Tony pushed back on knees to lock their lips again, fingers carding away the loose blonde hairs that tickled between them. They exchanged sloppy, loud kisses, Steve’s voice lower with the obvious and intent needs of his own cock still trapped under tight fabric. Tony wasn’t one to leave anyone dangling, his mouth trailing wet, sloppy kisses down a line to the waistband of Steve’s pants. He pulled the warm hand away, mouthing at fabric with earnesty that rewarded with fingers tightly wrapped in damp locks. 

 

Steve moaned and pushed Tony closer, who eagerly pulled at the waistband, tugging both fabrics down just enough to slide mouth over Steve’s cock. The taste intoxicated Tony, dragging tongue roughly up the underside vein. “Tony,” Steve hissed, gripping brown locks tightly as Tony’s nose buried into blonde, wiry hair. Steve’s hips twitched, and Tony pulled back to keep from gagging, lightly pinching the side of Steve’s arm. “Sorry,” He tried to laugh, but it came thick with lust, hardly able to contain the excitement of his cock buried in Tony’s throat.

 

He sucked him down to his root, scraping teeth and tongue, pushed along by the low moans, the rough pulls of his hair, and the heavy twitches of the reddened, leaking cock inside his mouth. Steve was  _ wild _ with hormones, Tony could tell, and the moment he popped his mouth off the tip of Steve’s dick he  _ pounced,  _ pinning Tony by the wrists to mouth at his throat, and work the rest of his pants off by way of his feet. His hips canted against Tony’s, pulling moans from each as their breathing deepened, their desperation for relief extremely mutual. “You’re stalling,” Tony whined, eyes fluttering as teeth sunk into his neck. 

 

“Never,” Steve answered, marking Tony’s beautiful neck to ensure their time was remembered. “Making the most of things,” He breathed, and Tony whimpered, scraping lines down Steve’s back. 

 

Steve reluctantly parted from Tony, to scour the side table for a condom. Tony situated more comfortably, mind fuzzy and warm as he watched Steve return, rolling on the protection and makeshifting lubricant. It drug a low whine from Tony’s throat, cock twitching in desperation as Steve loomed over him, his excitement growing beyond its capacity. “Fuck me,” Tony verbalized, watching the eager gleam of Steve’s eyes mirror in his expression. 

 

“Gladly,” Steve purred, gripping delicious hips and pushing into Tony with a long, slow stride that sent him spiraling into bliss. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this took almost a month...oops. I started a summer class and am preparing for graduation, I'm in the process of moving, aaand just a whole slew of other things that kept me from getting this chapter done! Hope it was worth the wait, and here's hoping I can get the next chapter out a little sooneer. ;) 
> 
> Also I like...almost never write fanfic smut so sorry about that. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Tony woke to warmth encapsulating him. Warm, fuzzy thoughts swirled quietly in his head, a slow soft sigh loosening his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time his dreams weren’t plagued by nightmares; the last time he’d gotten useful sleep. 

 

This time, he wasn’t alone. Warm, strong hands were wrapped around his middle, the blonde scruff of a beard tickling his neck as its owner sleepily shifted into a better position. The recognition brought a mixture of emotions to Tony’s hazy mind, none of which he knew how to listen to. 

 

The vibration of his phone shifted his focus,  forcing hazel eyes to open and blink away the sleep that had yet to empty from his system. He reached for the device, gritting teeth in a strain to keep from moving so much, so he didn’t wake the mostly-asleep man nestled around him. 

 

“Yeah?” His voice cracked, bringing his free hand to rub at his eyes. Yikes. That was a voice that desperately needed water. 

 

“You’ll  _ let me know _ when you get there? Ring any bells?” 

 

Oops. 

 

“Hey platypus.” He squeezed eyes shut, blinking widely. “Plans changed a little. Sure you heard over the news.” He kept his voice low and quiet, in hopes to leave Steve unbothered. 

 

“Yeah, I did. What the hell was that all about?” 

 

“Dunno. Handful of bombs looking to cause trouble.” He answered roughly, turning head slightly when he felt Steve shift against him. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tony smiled, adjusting to slowly lay back down in a more comfortable position. 

 

“I love it when you worry about me.” He breathed out slowly, closing eyes. “Sore,” He couldn’t help but smirk at that, “but I’ll live.” 

 

“Yeah, well you  _ sound  _ like shit. Where the hell are you, anyway? That was yesterday, Ross’s been up my ass about getting you back here.” 

 

Steve shifted again, tickling Tony’s neck with a slow exhale outwards. “Found a place to stay. Flying really takes it out of me.” He could hear the eyeroll on the other end of the phone. 

 

“Do me a favor, and get your ass back here. We don’t need to be pissing off Ross if you wanna even consider abolishing the Accords.” Tony exhaled slowly, rolling tongue in his mouth with a soft click. 

 

“I got it buddy. Don’t do anything crazy -- that’s my job.” He murmured, smiling a little wider at hearing Rhodey snort. 

 

“Be careful, Tones.” Tony lifted the phone from his ear at the click, thumb sliding upwards to bring up news feeds to peruse while Steve dozed. 

 

Or so he thought.

 

“Abolishing the Accords?” 

 

“Jesus Christ.” Tony hissed, twisting arm to slap at Steve’s arm, who simply kissed the back of his neck. “What’re you, five? Stop snooping into other people’s business.” Steve huffed a tired laugh, peppering softer kisses along the nape of Tony’s neck. 

 

“I’m a light sleeper, you forget?” Tony’s jaw tightened. 

 

He might have. 

 

Steve lightly squeezed Tony’s middle, nuzzling beard softly against the older man’s back. “You meant it. About the Accords.” Air slowly left Tony through his nose, wrapping fingers around a thick wrist. 

 

“Yeah.” Tony replied, side-eyeing Steve to watch for a reaction, but he didn’t get one. “Rhodey didn’t seem against it. That’s one ally.” Only 117 countries to go. “Hoping the number of unhandled attacks will sway some of the countries’ minds.” He briefly explained, still not quite ready to freely express his thoughts with Steve. 

 

“You think it’ll work?” The tone wasn’t judgemental, it wasn’t disbelieving or lacking in confidence, it just --  _ was. _

 

“I don’t know.” Tony admitted, mindlessly scrolling through news headlines, while Steve traced circles into his stomach. He couldn’t deny it was nice, it was  _ extremely  _ nice, but he still fell somewhere between conflicted and relieved. “Sam and Nat back, you think?” 

 

“Maybe.” Steve lazily answered, a careless shrug following. “They usually take most of the day.” Tony hummed in acknowledgment, eyes closing again with the repetitive rhythm. It wasn’t until his phone thumped against his pillow did he realize he’d dozed. 

 

He kept quiet for a while longer, taking time to remember this. Remember the warmth, the slow rise and fall of Steve’s chest against his back, his scent that reminded him of home, and the ebbing sting of their time, still sore in more places than he could count on  _ top _ of his injuries. He didn’t  _ want  _ to leave; but he couldn’t stay, either. Not under these circumstances. After a few short minutes, Tony sucked in a breath, and squeezed Steve’s wrist. “Open sesame, big guy.” Steve loosened his grip, squeezing Tony’s hips one last time before his hands returned to his side. 

 

Slowly, Tony pushed himself to sit, grimacing at the ache that ran through his entire body. One thing he knew for sure; super soldier was  _ no  _ exaggeration. Standing upright was an entirely different feat, so he stayed seated, resorting to the camera on his phone to check the marks on his neck and collarbone. “Were you  _ trying  _ to keep me from the public eye?” Tony muttered, turning eyes to meet a rather smug-but-innocent look. 

 

“I didn’t hear you stop me.” 

 

Steve laughed, muffled by a pillow thrown right for his face. “We’ve got makeup, should be around here somewhere.” Tony picked up the pillow and whumped him again, even if he  _ did  _ need something to cover up the dark bites and hickeys littering the exposed parts of his neck. 

 

“That’s on you. Find it.” The sheets behind him rustled, hazel eyes settling on bare chest as Steve tossed the sheets off himself. If there was any chance at all the two had returned, Tony would  _ not  _ be the one to face them. He’d positively never hear the  _ end _ of it. 

 

Even if he may have _ deserved _ the chastising. 

 

He stayed seated on the bed, running hands through hair that, without gel was too far gone to save, tangled and fluffed beyond repair thanks to Steve’s eager fingers. Whatever; he’d fix it as best he could, make himself presentable enough to please the council this afternoon. 

 

Tony ran hands down his face, groaning quietly while Steve nakedly scoured the room for makeup. The  _ council.  _ Boy did he dread giving  _ that _ debriefing. 

 

“Something wrong?” Tony’s hands stayed glued to his face, dropping them only after a few more self-loathing seconds passed. 

 

“This debriefing’ll be a nightmare at  _ best.”  _ Tony raised eyes to Steve, whose back was to him, broad and beautiful. God, what a sight. “No offense, but you should’ve left me under the rubble. Would’ve been easier that way.” Steve huffed a laugh, sliding another drawer out. 

 

Tony watched as Steve picked up the makeup bag, and held it out for him to take. “Always the last place you look.” Tony scoffed, hand grasping for the item, but his eyes were far from it, settling on the blonde, wiry hair that trailed down Steve’s lower stomach. 

 

He cleared his throat, unzipping the bag to check its contents. “2017?” Fingers lifted a bottle of concealer, twisting it in his hand. “You  _ do  _ know this stuff expires.” A smile thinned Steve’s lips, ruffling fluffy hair to have it lay even messier atop Tony’s head. 

 

“Not exactly five-star living, I know.” He lightly teased, watching Tony slowly muster the strength to stand. Now eyes were on Tony, running up the ridges and curves of skin in a manner that made Tony contemplate sliding right back into the bed. God, how he hated these circumstances. This would have been infinitely more bearable if they’d remained on better terms. He cleared his throat, sliding bottle back into the bag to take into the bathroom, eager to begin covering those spots. 

 

“Need some help?” 

 

The offer froze Tony in his tracks, jaw tightening as he found himself  _ actually _ contemplating a response. Rhodey was right, maybe he  _ was  _ losing it. “Can’t hurt.” He finally answered, turning head back just enough to see Steve already joining him. There was no way with how sore he was he’d be able to reach every spot. “Your fault anyways.” He reminded him, but Steve only smiled, carefully sliding the bag out of Tony’s hands, in exchange for a kiss to soft, brown hair. 

 

“Then let me make it up to you.” 

 

Steve wasn’t one to go back on his word. Gentle fingers tended to each spot evenly and delicately, committing each mark to memory as the concealer masked the damning evidence. His strokes were so soft and careful, Tony could’ve sworn Steve believed he was touching up a masterpiece. 

 

They were quiet through most of it, and when it finally came time to break the silence, both spoke in tandem. 

 

Steve, like the gentleman he was, nodded. “You first.” 

 

Tony cleared his throat, fingertips idly pressed together. “How long?” He asked, keeping still on the tub rim so Steve could continue to patch his neck. 

 

Steve’s eyebrows crinkled only slightly, eyes focused on blending the color. “How long?” It was clear Tony needed to go right out and say it.

 

“How long have  _ you, _ ” Tony’s finger softly poked the middle of Steve’s chest,  “--wanted that.” The corner of Steve’s mouth curled, and Tony could  _ feel  _ his anticipation thicken. 

 

“A while.” Steve admitted, delicately dabbing around the edges of a mark. “But I didn’t just want that.” He continued, eyes raising to practically take Tony’s breath away. “I wanted  _ you.” _

 

The answer jarred him more than he’d like to admit. 

 

Tony furrowed his eyebrows, visibly puzzled by the answer; and by the lingering blues, Steve knew that too. As much as he  _ wanted  _ to believe that was true, the evidence just didn’t line up. “And you didn’t before  _ because—“  _

 

“Lots of things.” Steve politely interrupted, continuing his work. “Mostly because it didn’t feel like the right time. We were on separate paths.” Tony found it hard to disagree, though this new and  _ unexpected  _ information did well to keep his attention. “Then we had our differences with the Accords, and,” Steve half-managed a smile, “I was just happy to see you again.” 

 

All this time, and Steve only seemed to think _ fondly _ of him. 

 

He scoffed once the initial shock wore off, calloused fingers pushing back the curls that threatened to obstruct his view. “You astound me.” Was all he could think to mutter, attention forced to the side in order to avoid Steve’s searching gaze. 

 

His thoughts weren’t quite collected on the matter; especially not enough to give Steve a proper response. How could he, just hours after sex? (Not to mention the extremely large bumps in their relationship, but he’d take it one issue at a time). 

 

He had some serious self-searching to do before he verbally reciprocated.

 

Fingers pulled out of his hair and into his lap with a dull thud, dismissing the topic with a brief clear of throat. Sorry Steve, that was an answer tabled for later. “Your turn.” He said, finally returning eyes to blues, who were understanding in the change of subject. 

 

Tony watched Steve adjust on the toilet seat, eyes following the warm thumb thoughtfully caressing Tony’s jaw. “I know the past couple years haven’t been the best.” Steve started, voice laden with care. “You’re absolutely right; I messed up. I ruined our trust, our friendship.” 

 

Tony squinted, wondering where  _ exactly  _ he was going with this. 

 

“I don’t deserve a second chance. I don’t deserve  _ you, _ after the mistakes I’ve made.” Steve continued, sincerity hardening beautiful, blue irises. “I want to make this work. I want to prove you can trust me again.” God, Tony wanted that too. But what was the catch?

 

Finally, Steve straightened his posture, breath bated. “Stay with us. Stay with  _ me.”  _

 

Tony’s breath caught. 

 

“What?”

 

It was all he could  _ think  _ to blurt out, eyes blown wide as if he’d slapped him.  _ Surely _ he didn’t hear that right.

 

But Steve persisted. “Stay with us. Forget the Accords, forget the compound. We don’t need any of it to do our job.” Tony was bewildered, the pure  _ notion _ of the thought incomprehensible. 

 

“I--” His mouth was frozen, locked into place. Steve thought it good a time as ever to rationalize his offer. 

 

“The Avengers are meant to make the world a safer place, whether we abide by the law or not.” Warmth enveloped Tony’s hands, a thumb carefully following their ridges. “We don’t have to be seen as heroes. We just have to keep people safe.” 

 

He  _ had  _ to be kidding. 

 

Tony blinked hard. His emotions were so convoluted, so  _ scattered  _ that his face showed no emotion at all. “You can’t be serious.” There was no  _ way _ he could have been, but Steve was the practical definition of ‘no laughing matter’. 

 

Steve’s expression didn’t budge. “I am. Times change, and we should too.” Every word twisted Tony’s chest tighter. “Stay with us, and we can do our best work  _ together.”  _

 

Now, where had he heard that before?

 

“I  _ tried  _ to keep us together. Didn’t work out so well, did it?” Had he made that clear enough yet? Even still, Steve’s hands shifted against Tony’s, turning palms upwards to clasp fingers. It was soft and sweet, and dammit was it making this hard. 

 

“I learned from my mistakes. We need to stay together.” Tony caught the tiniest huff. “You were right, Tony.” Maybe Steve wasn’t gritting his teeth physically, but Tony knew Steve well enough to know his stubborn ass didn’t freely admit his wrongdoings. And right, he was. They  _ should  _ have stayed together and avoided this entire mess. “We need you here, with us.” 

 

One final look into blue eyes told Tony he  _ was _ serious. Drop, dead serious. 

 

Tony looked away. What did he expect him to say? 

 

A laugh bubbled from his lips, in absolute disbelief. “I can’t just  _ leave,”  _ Did Steve think this was some fairy tale? “Rhodey, the kid, Pepper. It’s not fair to them. You  _ know  _ that.” 

 

“You said it yourself, Tony. These Accords are locking you in--” 

 

“You’re asking me to become a wanted criminal.” Tony plainly interrupted, Steve’s brows furrowing. Leave it to Tony to point out the flaws. 

 

Finally, Steve continued, soft and slow. “I’m asking you to help us do the right thing.” 

 

He hated this. 

 

Every damn second of it. 

 

Tony wiggled hands free, pressing them firmly to his face. God damn it. The part of Tony that agreed with Steve’s logic made him want to  _ scream. _

 

“I can’t.” 

 

He could feel the dejection  _ radiating  _ from Steve.  _ No. _ He couldn’t give in. “I can’t stay, and I can’t bring you home.” It was a blunt sentence, but every word rang true, even if they pierced Tony like a dagger.

 

He was hardly ready for the upset pulling the corners of Steve’s voice. “We’re our best  _ together,” _ Tony couldn’t look him in the eye, too afraid he’d cave. “I can’t lose you again.” 

 

_ Again.  _

 

“Let me deal with the Accords. If I leave,  _ everything  _ gets worse.” That left Rhodey and Vision as the only two -- and how was that fair? Every country would retaliate in fear of another Avenger gone rogue, no, he  _ needed  _ to see this through. “I won’t make others clean up  _ our _ mess.” 

 

He knew even before Steve’s grip loosened he wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for; and although the idea of freeing himself from the shackles Ross and the Accords had damned their operation to sounded  _ heavenly,  _ he couldn’t. 

 

It was Tony’s turn to grip Steve’s hand, bringing curled knuckles to his lips. “I want us to be together the  _ right _ way.” Tony wouldn’t dare tell he  _ wanted  _ to stay; he’d absolutely never get him to stop pushing if he did, but god did he want to. (He could _ feel  _ Rhodey shaking him roughly by the shoulders). 

 

He wanted to give Steve the benefit of the doubt, earn his trust again,  _ work  _ together again (and under special circumstances,  _ be _ together?). 

 

The situation was just too damn complicated. And as much as Tony’s heart ached to admit it, his happiness was not nearly as important as the bigger picture. 

 

Steve’s fingers curled underneath Tony’s grip, head gently bumping against his. “You don’t owe it to them.” Tony couldn’t help the quiet scoff, eyes shutting. 

 

“I’ve heard that a lot.” 

 

A smile, albeit withered, carried in Steve’s voice. “Rhodey?” 

 

“Sends his regards.” 

 

They stayed pressed to one another’s foreheads, enjoying the shared silence. Steve’s thumb traced the outline of Tony’s jaw, rewarded with tender, slow kisses. Tony had no  _ clue  _ how their attitude had changed so drastically, but his heart was happy, and that was more than enough. 

 

It didn’t need to make sense; he just needed to feel human again.

 

“Together,” Tony promised, stealing one final kiss. “that’s the endgame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you have to reread your own fic because you took so long to update :'D  
> (not gonna lie, this was a bit of a challenge, balancing their issues with their wants) 
> 
> Sorry you guuuys, thanks for sticking with me! Love to hear what you think <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading so far! You can find me on tumblr @ reactcr.


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